


The Demons That You Hide

by Brambleshadow_of_WindClan



Series: Winchester Crash Course [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Murder, Dark, Dark Doctor (Doctor Who), Language, Multi, Smut, Torture, dub-con, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan/pseuds/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Co-written with teamfreewillsamdeancas. Dark Doctor] </p><p>Annabelle is back to travelling with the Doctor after a few months off, even though she's been hunting with Sam and Dean. But he's changed, and she soon starts to wonder who—or what—she's really dealing with—and if she can ever escape from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet another rp with teamfreewillsamdeancas. Since both of us wanted to do a DarkTen rp, we put our previous one on hiatus. I was Ten; Sarah was her OC Annabelle Winchester and the other _Supernatural_ characters. I just don't feel comfortable writing for _Supernatural_ yet, and she doesn't feel like she has a good enough handle on the Doctor to write him. So it works out perfectly.
> 
> We also had way too much fun with this. There were several moments where my brain did something and I had to tell her to take the computer away from me before I could do any damage. The first two chapters are written; we're working on the third. Anyway. . .
> 
> Warnings: DarkTen, language, attempted murder, torture, and psychological abuse. If that doesn't cover it, I don't know what will.

 

_Here comes the night.  
_ _Can you see the light?  
_ _Shining like the sun.  
_ _You wanna hide but it’s got you on the run._

_Every word you say  
Is taking your breath away._

_Cry, the demons that you hide,_  
 _Screaming through the night._  
 _They won’t forget you._  
 _Coming down, coming down, coming down, coming down._  
~ “Cry” by Def Leppard

The Doctor was standing alone at the TARDIS console, looking over the readings on the monitor and scratching one hand behind his ear. His head snapped up at a somewhat frantic knock at the door.

“Yeah?”

“You always appear at just the right time don’t you?” Annabelle’s voice said. Metal clanked, and the only sound for a while was metal striking metal. “Uh, so you mind letting me in?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Oh, it would be you, wouldn’t it?” he muttered. Reluctantly, he snapped his fingers and the TARDIS doors opened.

Annabelle stumbled inside backward, holding an angel blade at ready, and closed the doors before looking back at him, worry crossing over her features. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something different about him, something she couldn’t place. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “It just feels . . . different in here.”

“You must be imagining things. The TARDIS doesn’t seem different at all to me.” He took them into the Vortex, then out of it, let the old girl drift. All this in less than a minute. “And anyway, I didn’t even know you’d be there. I was just stopping to refuel the old girl. There’s a rift in time and space running through here as well as in Cardiff. And since I’ve been hanging out here recently—” He shrugged.

“Weird. The boys dropped me there for a vacation and I got jumped by a bunch of angels. Where are we now?”

“Oh, nowhere. Just deep space.” He said it so casually. . . .

“Oh.” Her voice was small.

“Why?” he asked. “Did you want to go somewhere?”

“No,” she said quickly. Annabelle amended, “Well . . . I’ve been a bit homesick for Colorado but Sam and Dean can drive me there when we go back.” The end of the sentence came out in a rush.

He eyed her for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then his fingers were working at the controls and he was dashing around the console. “Okay. Colorado it is, then. I’ve never been there. Should be interesting.”

Annabelle grinned a little. “The mountains are beautiful. A bit cold, though.”

“Where in Colorado, exactly?” The Doctor wanted to have a better fix on the coordinates.

“It wasn’t really counted as a town. Um . . .” She gave him exact coordinates, and he entered them in. Moments later the TARDIS was materializing in a small clearing.

“Do you know what year it is?” Annabelle asked as they stepped out of the police box.

The Doctor sniffed at the air. “Ooh . . . 2013?”

Annabelle’s heart sank a little. “Can you tell what month?”

“Nope,” he said almost cheerfully.

Children’s terrified and pained screams filled the silence. Annabelle cringed. “Um, okay. I think I’m done here. We can leave.”

“Or not.”

Annabelle knew she sounded panicky, but she couldn’t help it. “No, you don’t understand. We have to leave. Remember that paradox thing you told me about?”

Now he got it. “Ah. Crossed your personal timeline, hhhmm?”

“My family is dying as we speak.”

The Doctor nodded in realization. “Oh. Yep. We’re leaving. Allons-y.” He turned, slipped inside the TARDIS.

Annabelle followed him, trying to block out the screams. “Did you choose the year or the TARDIS?”

“I did.” He looked up from the console, and the expression on his face scared her. It wasn’t the fact that it was half in shadow that made him look so eerie, though that was part of it. His eyes were so dark, face dead serious. He must have known about the date, the year. So why had he—?

Annabelle found she couldn’t meet his eyes any longer and dropped her gaze, suddenly very interested in the grating. “Oh,” she said softly.

He didn't say anything, busied himself with taking them elsewhere, somewhere outside Colorado Springs, October 2013. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you?”

“No.” Annabelle felt better there, when they materialized. She showed the Doctor around a little, brightening up at each location she remembered, and pointed out Pikes Peak. “It seems like there’s always snow up there. And if you go down the highway a little, the mountains look a bluish color.”

The Doctor perked up at the mention of snow. “Oh, snow! I love snow.”

She flashed him a teasing smile and playfully elbowed him. “Then you should come here more often! Plenty of snow in the winter.” She smiled fondly as she lost herself in memories. “Mom would always tell me to bundle up in those huge puffy jackets. I always stuck to hoodies. Still do. I used to have, like, ten pairs of boots. My brother and sister loved it. They had snowball fights all the time. We always had a snowman in our front yard.”

“So long as it’s actual snow,” the Doctor mused before clarifying, “I mean, before it’s usually been a disintegrating spaceship. And I had a hand in it—caused it, actually. Several times.”

“I don’t think we got any of that here. As far as I could tell it was always real snow. At the very beginning of next year there’s a big snowstorm.”

“Well.” He looked around casually, stuck his hands in his pockets. “Might as well find out the exact date. I’m thinking late October, maybe day before Halloween. What about you?”

“Sounds about right, judging by the color of the leaves and the wind chill.”

He grinned, but there was something . . . off about it. “So let’s go see what the neighbors are up to.” Without waiting for her, he headed off. Annabelle followed, looking at the Halloween decorations.

The Doctor eyed the decorations as well, an amused smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s amusing, what All Hallow’s Eve has come to in America, don’t you think, Annabelle?”

She smiled, thinking about it. “You should see the costumes. I never realized how inaccurate they were until I met Sam and Dean.”

“It's not just that.” He switched into his lecturing tone of voice. “It was originally a sabbat—well, I say sabbat, but it can also be an esbat—called Samhain, one of the eight days of power on the Wheel of the Year and the time when the veil between worlds was thin. There are still people who celebrate it as such. All this dressing up and trick-or-treating . . . I don’t know where that came from.”

“There’s a demon that can’t attack you if you're wearing a mask or something like that,” Annabelle told him, pleased to know something he didn’t. “That’s where the dressing up came from. No idea why we decided to give kids candy.”

“It’s not like they don’t have enough energy as it is,” he added.

“Exactly!” Annabelle smiled and glanced at him. Her eye caught on someone who had a “haunted house” set up in their yard. “And then there’s those.” She pointed at it. “Have you ever met an honest-to-God real ghost?”

The Doctor shook his head. “No. Stuff that looks like ghosts, yeah, loads of times. But there’s always been another explanation.” Suddenly his voice was bitter, frustrated, and a tad lower than normal.

Annabelle was slightly confused by it, but she continued on a bit more cautiously. “Well, I’ll tell you this much: They won’t talk to you. They’ll either kill you or repeat their own death.”

“Same with the Gelth, really. And any other gaseous alien life-form I’ve come across.”

“How do you deal with them?”

“With the Gelth, we turned up all the gas in the house and lit a match.” He shrugged casually. “No more problem. Besides, they’d taken over the bodies of your dead as part of a means to survive what the Time War had done to them. The Last Great Time War wasn’t just between Time Lords and Daleks; other species, the whole of the universe suffered. Until I ended it.”

“Oh. Maybe that’s where hunters get the whole salt and burn thing.”

“Maybe. Did I not mention Charles Dickens was involved? And it was Christmas?”

“Seriously?” Annabelle said incredulously. “Sounds like you have bad luck with Christmases.”

He snorted. “No kidding. But fighting ghosts with Charles Dickens! At Christmas!”

“That’s great. That sounds like a lot of fun. Seriously. This Christmas, supposing Sam Dean and I survive that long, I’m gonna make them stop for a day. We’ll stay somewhere nice and do something fun and normal. Maybe you can stop by and join in. There’s always room for one more.”

“Well, yeah, I could. Supposing nothing comes up.”

“Yeah. Tell you what, when Christmas 2014 rolls around, if we’re all still alive, I'll give you a call and we can see what we can work out.”

“Or, y’know, we do have a time machine,” he suggested.

“Yeah we do.” A thought occurred to her. “Hey, just between the two of us do you think I survive 2014?”

The Doctor turned his head away so she couldn’t see the smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, yes.”

She laughed a little as she talked, because she thought she wouldn’t survive with Zoë’s last promise: _Next time we meet you will comply or you will die._ “I’m taking your word for that, Time Lord. I trust you.”

His smirk widened. “Really?” He sounded almost like he was questioning her, and his voice was slightly rougher, lower than normal.

Annabelle tilted her head as she studied him. Why wouldn’t he look at her? “Well yeah . . . You’ve kinda saved me quite a few times.” Sensing something off, her voice became slightly suspicious. “Why?”

He quickly wiped the smirk away, turned his head to look at her. “Just nice to hear you say it is all.” The Doctor was covering up the real questions he wanted to ask—like just how much she trusted him; if he asked her to do something she’d do it with no questions asked, would let him do it even if it meant sacrificing her.

Annabelle stared at him for a moment, looking for anything that seemed off. “Well, you didn’t expect me to treat you like some sort of bloodthirsty monster, did you?”

A smile flickered on his lips, but it was gone in a second. “Funny. Some other species _do_ call me that. You don’t think that, though, do you?” There was something intense, unsettling in his gaze as he met her eyes.

Annabelle broke eye contact just for a second. “No. I think your hearts are in the right place. Hell, I’d take a bullet for you. I’d probably do just about anything if it meant saving you.” She paused, running his behavior through in her mind before she asked, “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

The Doctor averted eye contact, looked to the left. “Yeah. Everything’s fine,” he lied. Wanting to distract her, he abruptly changed the subject. He couldn‘t let her become too suspicious as to the change in his behavior, after all. “So, want to keep looking around, or do you want to head back to the TARDIS and meet Sam and Dean for Christmas?”

His teenage companion thought it over for a moment. “Let’s go have Christmas.”

“All right then.” He turned back ’round, headed toward his ship, and opened the door with a snap of his fingers. “Hhmm. I'm getting better at that.” The first time he’d done that had been in the Library, after River Song had told him her Doctor had been able to open a TARDIS with a snap of his fingers; that whole armies had turned at the sound of his name. He hadn’t believed her at first, but when she’d whispered his name in his ear . . .

Annabelle followed him and didn’t really question it, thinking he was trying something new.

The Doctor walked up the metal ramp to the console, shaking off his thoughts of the mysterious River Song on the way. “Let’s see. . . December 24, 2014 . . . What location?” He looked over at Annabelle with that excited mask on his face.

“Try the house in Lincoln,” she told him.

“All right,” he said, speaking to the TARDIS as he added: “Set coordinates to Lincoln, Nebraska.” He pulled at something, and the TARDIS shook with the effort. The Doctor braced himself on the console, grinned at Annabelle. “Here we go! Haha!”

She also braced herself, finding herself nervous to see what’s happened in 2014, but returned the grin.

-oOo-

The TARDIS landed inside the Winchesters’ house. He checked the monitors before opening the doors and stepping out into the living room. Annabelle followed him out, glancing around. Her house looked pretty much the same, but there were no Christmas decorations or anything like that.

The sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs alerted her to the boys’ presence. Sam and Dean greeted Annabelle with big hugs; they simply shook hands with the Doctor, followed by Annabelle quickly catching up with Sam and Dean.

The Doctor stood off to the side in front of his TARDIS, hands in his pockets, then waited until there was a lull in the conversation before he spoke. “Don’t you lot want to know what I’ve been up to? I’m not here all the time, you know.” That statement was so out of character for him that they all stopped talking and looked at him.

Annabelle tilted her head, her gray eyes sharp and bright. “I asked earlier . . . You didn’t offer anything. In fact, you completely avoided my question.”

Suspicion instantly clouded Dean and Sam’s faces. The Doctor covered with, “Well, I was waiting until all of you were in the same room. Didn’t want to tell the same story twice.” He waited, hoping they bought it. The suspicion on the brothers’ faces didn’t ease; if anything, it became sharper.

All three hunters were tense now, hands resting on the weapons they constantly carried—just in case. Annabelle tried to keep the tension from her voice as she said, “Go ahead, then.”

“Oh, you know me,” the Doctor drawled, leaning back against his ship. “Had a bit of fun. Went to the Medusa Cascade; named a galaxy Allison; saved a planet; destroyed a dozen alien races; was taken prisoner by the Daleks; got married—that was a mistake. Good Queen Bess. And let me tell you, her nickname is no longer—” He broke off, dipped his head. “Ahem.”

Sam smiled at the mention of Queen Elizabeth the First. _Of course he would get it,_ the Doctor thought. Annabelle looked confused after the “wiping out alien races” comment. “I thought your thing was _not_ killing things,” she said. Sam and Dean almost went to draw their weapons. Annabelle, sensing the movement, shot them a look that said clearly, “Wait. Let me handle it.”

“Well, not unless there’s an extreme danger,” the Doctor said quickly. He fixed the teenager with a searching, almost puzzled look. “I told you, Annabelle, I’ve killed before. Why are you so surprised?”

“I just . . . didn’t expect to hear that from you, especially so casually. Another hunter . . . that’s a different story, but . . . you just seem . . . off to me. Do you know what I mean?”

He shrugged casually. “Not really, no.”

“Let me explain then: Your entire . . .” Annabelle searched for the right word for a moment. “. . . demeanor is off. I told you I trust you and you questioned me, and now you’re talking about wiping out twelve species without showing any remorse whatsoever. Do you see the problem yet?”

“I’m alien. I have a different morality. Get used to it or stay here at home.” His eyes met hers, that dark brown so incredibly intense that she found it hard to look away. The left corner of his mouth hitched up in a smirk that, combined with the eyes and the really great hair, should be made illegal. On several different planets. But at the moment, when put in context, his entire expression was just disturbing.

Annabelle blinked to clear her mind, focused on what he’d said. Since when had she let his good looks get to her? Irritation swelled and she snapped incredulously, “Um, excuse me? No. I will not get used to it or stay home.” Irritation turned to anger. “What the hell happened to the Doctor that bounced around and smiled a bunch? Because I liked him a lot better than you.” She scoffed. “Reminds of the angels. ‘Comply or die, Annabelle,’” she mocked. “‘We are the only righteous path, Annabelle. Follow us, Annabelle. End the world, Annabelle. Be a good girl, Annabelle. Get used to your path, Annabelle.’” Her voice turned back to her regular tone. “They all think they’re so much more superior. I’m just a kid, right? Minor threat. Oh, my family is dead and I’m vulnerable? Even easier prey. They all underestimate me. Wouldn’t you agree, Dean?” Her eyes never left the Time Lord in front of her as she addressed the hunter behind her.

“They would never know what hit them,” Dean agreed.

“And I’m not underestimating you, Annabelle,” the Doctor said. His next question wasn’t quite rhetorical. “Why do you think I have companions?”

“I’ve heard many different theories. One being to hold you back. I’m thinking that’s probably right.”

“Sort of. You lot, you humanize me, make me more human than Time Lord. Sometimes that’s a good thing; other times . . .” The Doctor shrugged, and his eyes darkened.

Annabelle nearly took an uneasy step back but forced herself to stay put. “Why did you kill those aliens?” Behind her, Dean had the bottle of holy water behind his back and was unscrewing the lid, preparing to use it if necessary.

The Doctor’s lips curled in a smirk. “What do you think?” He stared her down, gaze unflinching and a few shades darker than it had been seconds before. Not quite black, still dark brown, but enough to make her edgy.

Annabelle managed to keep a cool tone. “Oh I don’t know. People have many different motives: Grudges, danger, money, paranoia. Hell, I’ve heard of people killing out of love. You tell me.”

Dean, behind her, chose this moment to splash the Doctor with his holy water.

Nothing happened. A wet, spluttering Doctor shook the water out of his hair and eyes and glared at Dean. “What was that for?!” His voice was an indignant shriek and a snarl all at once

“Nothing,” Dean covered quickly. “Um, just a . . . muscle spasm . . .”

Annabelle looked at Dean like, “You’re such an idiot!” She said to the Doctor, “Calm down. He, uh . . . means well.”

Irritation flared in his eyes. “No, let me guess. Holy water?”

“Yep,” Annabelle said with a shrug. “You can never be too careful when your friends suddenly drastically change.”

The Doctor let out a derisive snort. “You actually thought I’d been possessed by a _demon_?” he sneered. “They only work on humans, which I am not.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Annabelle said.

“No bloody kidding,” he snapped. “Satisfied?” This time he made no attempt to hide his annoyance. “Or are you going to test me to see if I’m something else? Skin-walker? Shape-shifter? Plasmavore?”

“If I want to, yes.” Annabelle quickly grabbed his hand and cut his wrist with a silver knife, just to piss him off.

The Doctor hissed with pain, gritted his teeth, and twisted the hand holding the knife, sending it clattering to the floor. “ _Don’t_ piss me off, Annabelle,” he growled, the Oncoming Storm smoldering in his eyes. _This_ was the side of him that destroyed his people and Daleks in the Time War, the side of him that killed several alien species in cold blood, the side of him that had whole armies turn and run at the sound of his name. She’d always thought he’d been exaggerating before, but now she had no trouble believing that he was capable of all that and more. He flipped their positions so her back was against the TARDIS, leaving little to no space between them.

Annabelle winced, her arm tensing under his grip. “ _Don’t_ touch me, Doctor,” she spat. She flipped their positions again with surprising strength. The look in her gray eyes hardened into the same anger and hatred she looked at the angels with. “I won’t tolerate that look in your eyes any more than I will tolerate an intruder in my home. Don’t push me. I’m not afraid of you. Not afraid of anything, really.”

The Doctor flipped positions yet again, and for being so skinny, there was strength there she wasn’t counting on. He didn’t say anything, just narrowed his eyes and brought his hands up to her temples. Then he was inside her mind; rummaging through her memories, thoughts, dreams while keeping his own mind protected; and sent her into unconsciousness when he pulled out. She slumped against him, eyes closed, and he stepped back, let her slide to the floor. “You were wrong, you know, about being afraid,” he told her softly, but she didn't hear him. She couldn't.

Rage coiled inside Dean. No one was allowed to hurt Annabelle, especially not right in front of him. “Hey!” he yelled at the Time Lord. “What the hell did you do to her?!” Dean was at her side now, trying to get her to wake up with no luck. He and Sam stood protectively in front of her, angel blades drawn. “You’re gonna pay for that,” Dean snarled.

“She’s unconscious,” the Doctor told the hunters coldly, “and she won’t wake up until I go back inside her mind.” His voice hardened. “As for making me pay, what’s the worst you can do? Gallifrey’s gone; the Time Lords are dead; my lover is in a parallel universe with another man who looks just like me—but he’s not, because he could _never_ be me, not when he’s part- _human_ and isn‘t _that_ just disgusting—and I’m already going to die. Just not right here right now.”

“Well, boo-hoo.” Dean was unsympathetic. “Fix her and get out of here.” His tone and expression were stone cold.

“Still didn’t answer my question, Dean,” the Doctor said. He made no move to help Annabelle, turned his Oncoming Storm glare on Dean. “What’s the worst you can do to me?”

“I can find a way to kill you and if you don’t help Annabelle, I swear I will. She trusted you. Now look at what you’ve done.” Dean glanced back at Annabelle, his gaze softening towards her.

“Humans,” the Doctor said in a voice filled with disgust. “You find something you don’t like you either threaten to kill it, or kill it and ask questions later. You never change. Other species should stay away from this planet because the monsters are coming: the human race. Sometimes I wonder why I hang around you so much.”

“You made it a helluva long time around us,” Dean snapped. His tone sharpened. “I knew something was off with you the first time she came home with you. You would’ve been fine if you hadn’t hurt her. Now, wake her up and get out. Don’t show your face or your little space ship around here and you’ll be safe. Hurry up.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes but crouched down next to Annabelle anyway. His hands found her temples; she opened her eyes as soon as he removed his fingers, a groan in her throat. She scrambled back, away from him. Dean stepped between Annabelle and the Doctor; Annabelle stopped, stayed still, knowing Dean wouldn’t let anything happen to her. “Now _leave_ ,” Dean ordered.

The Doctor stared back at him, expression steely. “No.”

“Go!” Dean snapped firmly.

“No, Dean,” Annabelle said suddenly, voice shaky. “I think we should just leave. Let’s . . . let’s go find somewhere else.”

“Annabelle—”

“Dean, come on.” She rose to her feet and gently tugged at Dean's arm until he gave in. They backed towards the door, Sam following after them. Annabelle tried to keep the betrayal she was feeling out of her eyes, but she couldn’t quite hide it.

“I guess I was wrong in choosing you as a companion,” the Doctor called after her. “Funny, none of you strike me as the type to give up easily.” There was an odd glint in his eyes, a mixture of smugness and something else—challenge, maybe? But then, it was always hard to judge his moods. He’d slide from one to another in a split second, or several emotions would be warring within him at once, giving away nothing at what was going on in his mind.

“Don’t challenge me,” Annabelle warned him. “I’m not giving up. This isn't over.”

“You’re right,” he countered, “it’s not. Be careful, Annabelle. You _don’t_ want me as an enemy.” There was warning and something she couldn’t yet identify in his voice, which was calm, cold, and barely restrained.

“I didn’t make you my enemy,” she fired back. “You betrayed me, led me on. Although I guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

His brows knit in confusion. “Leading you on?” He was genuinely puzzled, and for a moment he sounded like the old Doctor.

Annabelle shook her head, looked away. “I'm not falling for that again. Nice try though. Very convincing.”

“No, seriously. How have I led you on?” _Humans, always reading into things that aren’t even there._ He took a step forward, freezing when Dean and Sam trained their blades on him.

Annabelle moved an equal distance back. “You acted like you felt bad, like you were trying to make up for what you’ve done. You got me to trust you. You know, I looked up to you. I looked up to the way you did everything trying not to hurt either party unless necessary.” She looked at Dean. “I want to leave now.”

“Alright, kid,” Dean said. “Let’s go.” They walked out of the house into the driveway, and opened the doors of the Impala, not checking to see if the Time Lord was following them.

“I WAS!” the Doctor yelled at Annabelle, answering her earlier assumptions. He whirled around, kicked at the side of the house. Then he jumped up and down, wincing in pain and holding his foot. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Owwww. That hurt, that hurt. That hurt.”

Tangled-up emotions were overrunning Annabelle: anger, fear, confusion. “What are you doing now, then?!” she yelled at the Time Lord. “Twelve species and you say it like it’s nothing! Like they didn’t matter! _You_ taught me that everyone matters! Where did that part of you go?!”

“It died a while back,” he said with more than a hint of black humor. “It’s been, what, a few months for you, Annabelle? For me, it’s been three years.”

The confusion and fear Annabelle was feeling were replaced solely by disbelief and anger. “I’ve always offered you my support! I’ve always said my door is open if you want to talk! All you had to do was find me! We could’ve talked it out! Now you’ve gone and crossed the line! I _can’t_ help you now! My hands are tied now! You’re on your own!” Forgetting about the Impala, wanting to be alone and think things over, she ran down the street to a park and found somewhere out of sight. She sat down, working on keeping herself from crying, and listened to make sure no one followed her.

The Doctor ignored Sam and Dean’s death glares and went after her, moving as silently as possible so Annabelle wouldn’t hear him. Her back was to him as he came up behind her. “Sorry if I hurt your precious feelings,” he said sarcastically, insincerely.

She jumped, startled, and her voice turned to a low growl: “I thought it was obvious I didn’t want to see your face. Screw off.” Annabelle got up without looking at him and started walking away towards the jungle gym where a bunch of little kids were playing, hoping having more people around would get him to leave.

The Doctor watched her for a moment before following. “You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want me to leave,” he informed her coolly. His eyes drifted from her to the little kids, and they softened for a moment. He remembered traveling with Susan, his granddaughter; then with Ace, in his seventh body; and Sam Jones, in his eighth. Then he shook off the memories and focused on the teenage hunter again. “I don’t scare easy, not anymore. You should know that by now.”

“If you don’t leave,” she warned, “I’ll scream and say you were trying to kidnap me. See all the moms? Every single one of them will call it in and take pity on me. Back off.”

He stopped, considering. “Well, you could do that, yeah,” he agreed. “But you won’t. Because you’re still curious, still want to help me—see if I can be helped. You want to know? Then come with me.” He spotted her hesitation. “I don’t bite, you know.”

Annabelle glared at him. “You invaded my mind and knocked me out. Don’t act like you wouldn’t kill me in a heartbeat if it meant bettering yourself. If you’re even going to tell me anything tell me right here right now.”

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it while I was inside your mind, don’t you think?” His expression turned scornful, almost wounded. “Besides, I’ve never killed any of my companions. Well, Adric died, but that was the Cybermen. It wasn’t my fault.”

Annabelle snapped, “Well if you didn’t want to be accused of wanting to kill me, you should've been straight with me and told me the problem right off the bat! I have a track record of people who keep secrets from me attempting to take my life!”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, didn’t bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice: “Yeah, can we keep the domestics out of this? Thanks. And what would I have said? You’re smart enough; you would’ve figured it out on your own.”

She retorted, “Yeah, well, sometimes figuring things out on my own hurts.” Annabelle crossed her arms, a defiant look in her gray eyes. “Why do you think Sam does all the research?”

“Well, Dean’s obviously not going to do it,” the Doctor said, “and you seem like you’d rather be out in the field.” He shrugged. “And Cass isn’t always around to give his insight. Besides, Sam seems to like doing it, from what I’ve seen. But seriously, what could I have told you? That I’ve gone to the Dark Side of the Force?” he added sardonically.

Annabelle pretended to think about it before saying sarcastically, “Hmm, yeah, a little heads up would’ve been nice now that you mention it!”

“And what, have you run out on me? No, ta. ’Sides, the Force doesn’t even exist. Well, maybe, but only in _Star Wars_. Anyway, that’s not the point. And if you think _this_ me is scary, you should meet my seventh body. I really _was_ a manipulative git back then.”

Annabelle chose her words carefully. “I don’t think you’re scary. I think it’s scary that I let my guard down around you and led you into my home.” She couldn’t quite contain her anger as she continued, “You, sir, have made yourself look very bad in front of three of the most powerful people on this earth and we’re not exactly the ‘forgive and forget’ type. If you had stopped for a moment and just thought ‘You know, maybe Annabelle can help me with this’ we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be arguing. You would not have lost every bit of respect I had for you. So riddle me this, Doctor: How do you plan on fixing this?”

His upper lip curled in a silent snarl. “You don’t think I scare you, eh? Try telling that to the Daleks. And why would I want your help? I don’t need some stupid little ape dictating my actions.”

She flashed him a defiant smirk. “That’s exactly why. Because you think you’re so superior. You think I’m just a stupid ape; that I hold no power, right? That’s where you’re wrong. You don’t want me as an enemy not the other way around. You’re just another challenge to me.”

“And here’s a newsflash for you: I’m not human,” he snarled. “Sometimes I think you need reminding. As for me not wanting you as an enemy . . . oh, that’s where you are wrong. I’ve ended lives, I’ve ended worlds. I’ve done it all. Trickster feared, far from revered in many different legends. Don’t you want to know why I’m known as the Bringer of Darkness, the Oncoming Storm?”

She forced herself to sound indifferent. “Can't you tell that I don’t care what you’ve done, who you are? Regardless of whether or not you’re human, you sure as hell are capable of handling yourself like more than a child throwing a temper tantrum. Here’s a newsflash for you: you’re not the only one who’s killed here. Don’t act like your body count can intimidate me.”

“I’ve told you: I don’t have the same morality as your species. And don’t say you’re not going to get used to it, because I don’t care what you think.” He sniffed. “Besides, Time Lords don’t throw temper tantrums.” The Doctor stared into her gray eyes, his expression dark, unreadable, chilling. “I’m so old now. I used to have so much mercy. Not anymore. No second chances. I’m that sort of a man,” he said quietly, menacingly.

Annabelle glared at him, a bunch of biting remarks running through her mind. “If you’re so freaking superior, so powerful, so amazing, so done with second chances,” she argued, “why would you save the human race? Why would you ‘grow fond’ of us? Why not watch our destruction and move on? Why not try to take over? Do you know what kind of human I am? A vengeful one. Right now I’d like nothing more than to tear you apart.”

“Well, you lot can be cruel, caring, brilliant, stupid, destructive, but you’re never boring.” He leaned back against a tree. “My people were pompous, stuffy. They adopted a policy to watch over the universe but never interfere. I couldn’t live like that; even staying at the Academy was driving me mad. So my granddaughter and I eventually stole a Type 40 TARDIS from a museum and exiled ourselves from Gallifrey. My second chances policy is for my enemies, or other alien species who have tried destroying your planet.

“Do you think I’ve never been tempted to let your species die? When I was trapped on a bus with humans traveling across the diamond planet of Midnight, an unknown life-form possessed one of the riders, who then used her to mimic all of our voices. When she latched onto me and stole my voice, the other _human_ passengers tried to kill me, after blaming me for the whole incident.” His mouth lazily stretched into a sneer. “As for tearing me to pieces, I’d like to see you try. Annabelle Winchester, the key to the war in heaven and hell. Aside from that you’re not important! Not even remotely important!”

Her angel blade was in her hand now, a deadly look in her eyes. “Gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

The Doctor eyed the angel blade warily, hoping that he’d at least have a chance to regenerate if she did stab him. Then a sly look lit in his dark brown eyes, and he smirked. “Aw, you know you love it,” he drawled.

“Maybe in the past,” she said. “Now . . . it’s just hatred.” Annabelle let her eyes travel over his body, wondering where to strike first.

His smirk widened, eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh, really? I’ve been inside your head. You’ve been looking. You like it.”

Annabelle stepped forward, the stone cold look replaced by mischief. Her angel blade drooped lazily in her hand as she caressed his cheek. Then she slapped him, the cold look returning. “You’re visually pleasing, sure, but for you to think I could actually ever fall for you?” She scoffed. “Pathetic. And now you’ve made a fatal mistake by allowing me this close to you.” An absent look came into her eyes as she stabbed him.

He rolled away from her, grimacing in pain. The kids and their parents were long gone by now, and it was just the two of them in the park. The blade just missed his left heart, but only barely, and already he could feel his cells rejuvenating to repair the wound. If he was not careful, he’d trigger the regeneration process. Besides, it wasn’t time, not yet—it couldn’t be. And really, this was not one of his preferred ways to go: regeneration by stab wound. At least he didn’t trip over a brick—that would be embarrassing. His eyes closed and he crashed on the snow-covered grass, just barely catching himself. Rassilon, this _hurt_ , and while he normally healed quickly, it didn’t make it any less painful. When he was sure the wound was fully healed, he opened his eyes, focused on his former companion. “Hello.”

She just stared at him, a fierce anger burning in her eyes, her chest heaving and hands shaking as she struggled to control the rage. Her grip on the angel blade was so tight that her knuckles had turned white. “You should be dead,” Annabelle said tightly.

His dark eyes burned up at her. “Time Lord,” he growled. “It takes more than that for me to regenerate.”

“I don’t care. Just die.” It sounded like an order rather than a wish, she realized.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” the Doctor said, rising to his feet. “Besides, there’s already been an alternate timeline where I died. There was more death and destruction than if I’d lived. You need me, like it or not.” He smirked, faintly. “And I don’t want to die; sorry to disappoint you. But even when I change it feels like dying. Some new man goes sauntering away, and I am dead.”

Annabelle wanted to ask him what the hell he was talking about, but she didn’t want to appear weak in front of him. Instead she ordered, “Don’t you dare follow me this time.” Without waiting to see his reaction, she turned and ran off again. To make sure he didn't follow her, she convinced Cass to pop her back to where she left Sam and Dean. Annabelle slipped into the Impala behind Dean. She growled, “Step on it. Now.”

Dean did as she said, not asking questions. They didn't stop until they needed gas and something to eat. The drive gave Annabelle too much time to think, so while Dean was filling up the car's gas tank and Sam was getting them all something to eat, she found herself a place alone and let go of the emotions she’d been holding back. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She punched a wall in frustration, blaming herself for the whole thing, for not seeing that something was wrong sooner.

-oOo-

The Doctor went back to his TARDIS, sent it into the Vortex, and then wandered into the library, where a fireplace was going. Through their link, he felt his ship’s concern and snapped at her to leave him alone. She gave him the equivalent of a sulky look but withdrew, let him think.

Yes, he was a git to Annabelle and her family; yes, he could have handled himself better—but who was she to tell him what to do, to almost kill him? The universe didn’t revolve around her, as much as she liked to think it did, and she was only fourteen—a child, compared to him. She wasn’t the last of her kind; hadn’t had to commit genocide on her _own species_ , her _family_ ; hadn’t had to destroy her own _planet_. She hadn’t had to live through the horror of the Last Great Time War, where millions of species were dying _every second_. And while the Time War went unnoticed to lesser species, to humans, it affected higher species—affected the whole of the universe. Meeting Rose was the one bright spot in his existence after the Time War, and when she’d gone, it had been harder and harder for him to keep his demons at bay. Even when she was traveling with him it had been work for him to control his darker nature. Now that he’d been on his own for so long, it was no wonder that he’d fallen prey to his darker side.

-oOo-

It took Annabelle a long time to regain her composure, but she eventually headed back to the Impala and immersed herself in finding the three of them a case. After a while longer driving in near silence, Dean found his voice: “What happened, kid?”

“Nothing, Dean,” she snapped, sighing. “Leave it alone. It’s done.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked her.

“I’m always okay. Just drop it, alright?”

Dean fell quiet again. Annabelle breathed the words “thank you” and continued trying to find a case.

-oOo-

The Doctor went into the console room, debated with himself, and then set to work at the console. After fixing the TARDIS to track the Impala, he ducked into the wardrobe room for a change of clothes, emerging minutes later in jeans, a light-blue T-shirt, and a black jacket he didn’t even know he had.

-oOo-

They ended up stopping for the night; even though Annabelle wanted to keep going, she opted for her own room. Once inside, she did a bunch of little chores to keep herself distracted, giving up on that when it failed. She felt tears sting her eyes again and crawled into bed, hoping to sleep it all away.

-oOo-

The Doctor took the TARDIS out of the Vortex, making it visible to any who happened to be looking up into the night sky, and landed it a couple blocks over from where the Impala was parked so the hunters wouldn’t see or hear him arrive. He checked into a room but didn’t sleep—he’d slept a few days ago for a full cycle. And if they _did_ find him, well, he could pass for human easily enough; he had all of his memories from when he was John Smith hiding out in 1913, after all.

-oOo-

Annabelle fell asleep but only managed to sleep half the night. She remembered seeing a sitting area outside and went out to sit there. Her eyes closed as she leaned back in the chair, breathing in the night air.

-oOo-

He was feeling antsy, restless. The Doctor didn’t really like confined spaces—he was rather used to how his TARDIS was bigger on the inside—and besides, there wasn’t much in his room anyway. So he opened his hotel room door and stepped out into the hallway, deciding to explore a little. Yes, he could run into Annabelle and her guardians, but frankly, he didn’t care.

His feet took him past the little gym and indoor swimming pool, where there was a view of a sitting area outside. He paused when he saw the teenager already out there. Then he decided, “To hell with it,” and pushed open the door that led outside. “Mind if I join you?” he asked in a Scottish accent. Combine the accent with his clothes and the way he’d styled his hair, chances were she wouldn’t recognize him, especially not on a night as black as this.

Annabelle didn’t open her eyes. “It’s a public space, but I swear if you try anything you won’t like the results.”

“Then I won’t try anything,” he said, taking a seat in the chair next to hers, suddenly thankful that there was a table between them.

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Eventually Annabelle became uncomfortable with the silence between them and took out her phone. She messed with it for a few minutes before “Never Too Late” by Three Days Grace started playing quietly. The man could barely hear it, due to the low volume, or so she figured. “I hope you don't mind the music,” she said. Annabelle couldn’t see much of him in the dark, but she thought he was wearing jeans and a dark jacket. He was Scottish, too, judging by the accent.

“Not at all,” he replied. “Couldn’t sleep, eh?”

Annabelle sighed, trying to make up something to say. “Yeah . . . It’s been a long day. Should’ve slept in the car, I guess.”

“Mmm. Me, I suffer from insomnia.” It was the quickest lie he could think of, and possibly the most accurate. He didn't want her knowing who he was, not yet. Besides, he still hadn’t forgiven her for trying to kill him. He was lucky that he hadn’t regenerated from that little incident. The Doctor, wanting to keep his charade going a little longer, took out Martha’s mobile and went through the music choices before settling on “Heroes” by Shinedown. He kept it at medium volume, lips twitching as the lyrics started.

_“Stare in wonder; who’s here to bring you down? Find your martyr; I’m sure you’ve made the crown. So light a fire under my bones, so when I die for you, at least I’ll die alone. Ain’t nothing for me to end up like this. There’s no comparing me this time.”_

“Yeah?” Annabelle said. “That’s too bad. Least the weather’s decent here.” She stopped to listen to the lyrics of his song as they caught her attention:

_“All my heroes have now become ghosts; sold their sorrow to the ones who paid the most. All my heroes are dead and gone, but down inside of me, they still live on._

_“Dark devotion in a beacon paradise shows no emotion to a willing sacrifice. You can put a man on trial, but you can’t make the guilty pay. And you can cage an animal, but you can’t take away the rage. . . .”_

Annabelle got up and began pacing. She was suddenly feeling on edge but she wasn’t sure why.

“Considering it’s winter, yeah, it’s not too cold,” the Doctor agreed. He smiled a little, but between the darkness and the fact he wasn’t looking at her, it was hard to see. “You’re not doing anything for Christmas, I take it.”

“I can’t stand Christmas, which was today if memory serves,” she said in a warning growl. “I spent it on the road, as always.”

He threw his hands up in an appeasing gesture, an innocent expression on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” His phone switched to the next track on the album: “Save Me”.

_“I got a candle and I’ve got a spoon. I live in a hallway with no doors and no rooms. Under a windowsill they all were found, a touch of concrete in the doorway, without a sound. . . .”_

Annabelle waved the apology off and stopped pacing briefly when the song changed. She continued pacing, glanced at the stranger then quickly away. “Are you here visiting someone?”

He smiled again, faintly. “Not really, no. I’m just traveling. I had a friend with me, but she left to be with her family.”

_“. . . How did I get here, and what went wrong? Couldn’t handle forgiveness. Now I’m far beyond gone. I can hardly remember the look of my own eyes. How can I love this, a life so dishonest it made me compromise? . . .”_

“It’s just me, now,” he said.

Annabelle felt her lip quiver; she mentally scolded herself but wasn’t able to stop a tear from rolling down her cheek. She turned away from the stranger to make sure he didn’t see. “Oh I see. I guess people just . . . aren’t very dependable, huh?”

He smiled again, wider this time. “I guess you could say that.”

_“. . . Someone save me if you will, and take away all these pills. And please just save me if you can from my blasphemy in my wasteland. Jump in the water. Jump in with me. Jump on the altar. Lay down with me. . . .”_

Annabelle tried to brighten the mood a bit, though the statement came out sounding like a wish: “Maybe things will get better around New Year’s.”

The Doctor shrugged and switched out of the Shinedown category to Def Leppard, selected “Desert Song”. “Maybe. Maybe not.” This time, he couldn’t hide the smirk as the lyrics started up: _“Dark and dirty like you’ve never seen. A mind so twisted with thoughts so unclean. My heart is racing, all tattered and torn. I stand here naked as the day I was born. Only the lonely will stand. I’m holding the world in my hand. I’ve got to believe._

_“The sky is falling on a setting sun, echoes of silence ringing loud and long. This isolation is the king of me, a lost horizon on an ocean of pain. . . .”_

Annabelle stopped pacing. “You’ve got an interesting taste in music.”

“Thanks. So do you. Three Days Grace, am I right?”

Annabelle had forgotten she had music playing. She glanced down, realized the song had been on repeat. “Yeah.” She turned Repeat off, and “Over My Head” by the Fray came on. She couldn’t help but hum along quietly:

_“I never knew. I never knew that everything was falling through. That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue to turn and run when all I needed was the truth. But that’s disregard. You find another friend and you discard as you lose the argument on the cable car hanging above as the canyon comes between. And everyone knows I’m in over my head over my head. With 8 seconds left in overtime she’s on your mind, she’s on your mind. . . .”_

“That’s the Fray, yeah?” the Doctor asked. Suddenly bored, he didn’t wait for an answer and switched to the next song on the Retro Active album. His smirk turned into a roguish grin.

_“I’m caught in a dream. Sometimes it ain’t what it seems. I’m all in a daze; can’t fight my way out of this maze. I’m looking for cues. I’m wanting a change in the rules. I’m locked in a cage, acting out on the wrong stage. Don’t want your sympathy—no, no, no. Don’t need the third degree—no, no, no. Just got to break away and scream. I’m caught in a dream._

_“I’ve stood at the edge and I’m looking down, caught in the danger zone. I feel like a king that has lost his crown, and now I stand here alone._

_“Don’t want your sympathy, no. Don’t need the third degree, no. . . .”_

Annabelle sat down again and brought her knees to her chest. A couple minutes passed and her song changed to Shinedown’s “Second Chance.” She chose a star and stared at it, becoming lost in thought.

_“My eyes are open wide. By the way, I made it through the day. I watch the world outside. By the way, I’m leaving out today . . .”_

The Doctor noticed her vacant expression. “Penny for your thoughts, lassie,” he prodded her.

_“. . . I don’t care if you pull down the sky. Angry passion is a friend of mine. Reach out for the sky above. It’s just a fractured love. . .”_

She snapped out of it. “I’m sorry? I spaced out.”

He gave her a “no duh” look. “Yeah, I could tell. Penny for your thoughts, lass?”

“I can’t give you the full story. . . . I’ve just caused some trouble lately. . . . I feel really stupid for what I did.” Now she sounded angry towards herself. “I could’ve ignored it. I could’ve been home right now. Could’ve been safe. . . . Now . . . I don’t know if I’ll ever go home.”

The Doctor smiled to himself. Oh, this was fun. Humans were so easy to manipulate, and he wondered why this incarnation hadn’t done it before. “At least you have a home to go back to. I can’t go home. Ever. It was lost in a fire years ago. My whole family died. I keep traveling, never staying in one place for too long—mostly because it drives me barmy, mostly because I don’t want getting too attached—and out of guilt, I suppose. But enough about me. What about you?” He switched albums to Pyromania, chose “Die Hard the Hunter.” There was a brief helicopter sound, then guitar, and he closed his eyes to listen, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth when the vocals kicked in.

_“Welcome home, soldier boy (from far away, far away). No angel of mercy, just a need to destroy (fire away, fire away). Let’s toast the hero with blood in his eyes. The scars on his mind took so many lives. Die hard the hunter._

_“Welcome home, soldier boy. Put down your pistol, yeah, put down your toy. Yeah, they can take a gun away from you but never take away your attitude. They can’t do that, oh no, no, no. They can’t do that. You got no enemy, no front line. The only battle’s in the back of your mind. You don’t know how to change from bad to good. You brought the war to your neighborhood. You can’t do that, oh no, no, you can’t do that. . . .”_

Her music changed to “It’s Not My Time” as an alarm went off in her mind. It was telling her to run, to get away from this man as fast as she could: He was dangerous. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she gave in to the alarm. “I should go. Sorry about your home and your family. I, um—” Annabelle almost tripped over a table as she backed away, but she caught herself. “Bye.” She slipped inside, jogged back to her room.

The Doctor grinned at her hasty exit, laughing softly to himself. He stopped the song, turned off Martha's phone, slipped it into his jeans pocket, and followed her path, heading to his own room. Before he did, though, he tracked her scent to her room, made note of her room number. Then he headed to his own room, flopping onto the bed for a catnap.

-oOo-

Annabelle stayed put until morning. Sam and Dean came in to say they’d be staying there for a while because Sam had found a vengeful spirit case in town. They told Annabelle to get ready, since they had a meeting with the sheriff. Once she was ready they headed out and didn’t return until noon.

-oOo-

That next morning, the Doctor waited until they were well gone and out on the case before breaking in to Annabelle’s room with the sonic screwdriver. He did a quick search, not really expecting to find anything, and was pleasantly surprised when he found Annabelle’s journal. Speed-reading it took a few seconds, though he grinned at her latest entry, which took note of the change in his behavior. He wondered if she’d told Dean and Sam about meeting him, even though she didn’t know he was the one she'd been talking to the night before. Footsteps outside the door alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone, and he tossed the journal back into its original position, ducked into a hiding place, and slipped a perception filter around his neck.

Annabelle seemed to be in a better mood as she opened the door. The grin that played on her lips faded as she noticed her journal was out of place, and she drew her blade. She called out, “Hello? Anyone here?”

“What is it, kid?” Dean asked.

“Go,” she said to him and Sam. “I can handle myself. It’s probably nothing.”

“Do we need to leave?” Dean queried.

“We’re staying,” she decided. “Go on.”

The boys left. Annabelle searched the room but found nothing. She sat down on the edge of the bed, the act of being okay and in a better mood fading. The Doctor heard her mutter to herself, “What am I doing? This is stupid. No more self-pity. Go take off the makeup. Change. Eat something. Anything but this.” She rose, grabbed some more comfortable clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom. The Doctor could hear running water, and figured she was scrubbing the makeup off.

He stayed absolutely still and silent, knowing that if he did anything to attract attention to himself then the illusion would be broken and she’d notice him before he wanted her to. The thought crossed his mind that standing just inside the doorway wasn’t the best place ever to hide, but he’d had a limited range of options. He shook off the thought.

Annabelle came out after finishing up in the bathroom and collapsed on the bed after grabbing her journal. She rolled onto her stomach and began writing about the case and the strange man she met the night before, sometimes muttering sentence fragments to see how they would sound.

The Doctor took off the perception filter, but Annabelle was too focused on her writing to look up. He smirked. “Self-pity, eh?” he said, using the Scottish accent from the night before. “And, just out of curiosity, you wouldn’t be writing about me, would you?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, took up the angel blade. “Oh God, you’re a stalker, aren’t you?” She studied his face carefully. Something clicked, but she couldn't quite place it. “No . . . I know you, don’t I? Who are you?”

He grinned and slid his legs out in front of him a little, bracing his back on the wall, and crossed his arms. “You know me. I’m the winner. I’ve always been the winner. I’m the Lonely God, the Bringer of Darkness, and the Destroyer of Worlds. I’m the trickster, the riddler, he of the many faces who walks through doors. The Oncoming Storm; the Time Lord Victorious.” His eyes glinted with an unidentifiable emotion, and there was nothing warm about his grin now. It was dark, terrifying. “Hello, Annabelle.” A line from “Die Hard the Hunter” ran through his head: _Back in the city he’s a man on the loose. He is the shadow that’s been following you. He takes no prisoners when he’s hunting for game. He’s got a bullet and it carries your name._ “Basically, run.”

She paled before throwing everything into her bag. A mixture of anger and fear churned in her eyes, in her gut. “I told you not to follow me! And I suppose it was you I practically spilled my heart to last night! I should’ve known! God, I hate you! Do you have any idea—?!” She broke off as the realization hit her. “That was the feeling last night!” Annabelle picked up the bag, slipping into the flats from her earlier formal outfit, and stormed from the room. “Sam! Dean! We’ve gotta go now!”

The Doctor slipped the perception filter back on his neck and followed her, staying far enough back so she wouldn’t be able to stab him if she ever did end up noticing him.

“What?! What do you mean?!” Dean asked her, shocked.

“He’s here. He’s watching.” Annabelle sounded panicked, and while the Doctor didn’t blame her, he did preen a little from satisfaction. “We need to leave now.” She grabbed their bags and headed for the Impala, calling back over her shoulder, “If you aren’t coming I’ll drive away on my own!”

Without waiting for their response, she got in the car and waited for Sam and Dean. It wasn’t long before they came out and took their respective seats.

“You’re sure you can’t talk him down?” Dean asked Annabelle.

“Mr. Superior would never let me help,” she muttered darkly. “Go. Now.”

The Doctor, without any of the Winchesters noticing, was able to slip into the Impala's backseat before Dean hit the gas. It meant he was sitting right behind Sam, but since Annabelle was sitting behind Dean, he felt relatively safe for now.

“Where are we going?” Dean asked.

“Just drive. Go far. Go fast. I’ll tell you when to stop.” Annabelle was silent for a minute; then she slammed the palm of her hand against the back of Dean’s seat. “Dammit! I knew we should’ve kept going!”

“Hey, calm down. You didn’t know.”

“I knew he’d be watching! We had a lovely conversation last night! I knew something was off! I should’ve said something! How did I not put it together?!”

After she ranted for a while about her stupidity, Dean pulled over to let her release some of the anger. She stood next to the Impala, kicking one of the wheels and cursing for a long time.

The Doctor watched from the backseat, an amused smile on his lips. He fought back a laugh; any noise he’d make would alert them to his presence, and he didn’t want that. He was rather fond of this body; he didn’t want to regenerate yet. Why would he?

Sam got out of the car, placed a comforting hand on Annabelle’s back. She swatted his hand away, and he caught her wrist gently. Calmly, he asked her, “What happened last night?”

Annabelle took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to explain. Even so, her sentences came out sounding short. “I couldn’t sleep. I went outside. Everything was hitting me full force. He came out. We talked. I didn’t realize—!” Nope, the deep breaths weren’t working. Her voice grew angry again. “He said his family and home died in a fire! That was the biggest clue! Sam, I’m an idiot! I’m stupid!” She went back to kicking at the car with more force. Sam pulled her back, though she kicked and screamed in frustration. Sam held onto her until she went still.

“You need to calm down,” he told her. “It’s not your fault.”

She shook her head, sounding close to hysterics. “It’s all my fault! You don’t understand; you weren’t there! It’s my fault we’re running again! Now let me go!” She elbowed Sam and stood in a fighting position. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped.

“Whoa, kid seriously?” Dean threw in incredulously. “Take a deep breath!”

“No!” Annabelle screamed.

The Doctor’s eyes darkened as he listened to her hysterics. Yes, she tried to kill him, but only because he’d manipulated her, played her. If anything, it was his fault. But he couldn’t stop, he realized, and what’s worse, he didn’t _want_ to stop. He didn’t want to be saved, not this time. He wasn’t human; he was a Time Lord—the last of the Time Lords. If he wanted, he could bend Time and the universe to his will—and who was going to stop him? He had that right, that power, and there was no higher authority. Besides, he hadn’t had this much fun in ages, not since Rose and Donna. As for Martha, well, he’d given her what she’d wanted, even if it wasn’t in the way she’d expected—and while it had broken her, he’d been able to detach himself emotionally even as he’d enjoyed a sick sort of satisfaction. The Doctor jolted himself out of his thoughts, focused on Sam and Annabelle’s argument once more.

“You’ve gotta stop this,” the Moose was telling her. “It’s not your fault.”

“Sam, it is one-hundred percent my fault!”

“Remember what I told you about Ruby? How I misjudged her?”

“Why are you bringing that up?”

“That’s what happened with you and the Doctor.”

Annabelle’s voice was more than slightly hysterical as she replied, “No, you don’t understand! If he wanted to he could wipe you from history! Everything you’ve done, gone! Everything we worked so hard to avoid! Everything! I told him everything! He knows heaven, the angels, my family, your family, our home! We can never go back to Lincoln because of this! Because of me! We’ll never have a permanent home! We’ll be running until it kills us! I can’t do this! I can’t! I’m just a burden to you! Go! Get in the car! Leave me here! He can come and get me! Maybe he'll leave you alone! GO!” Her final yell seemed to echo.

“We’re not leaving you,” Dean said firmly. “We never would. Get back in the car. Come on. It’ll be—”

“Don’t try to say it’ll be okay!” Annabelle snapped. “I’m not that stupid! It will never be okay! I tried to kill him, not you! He wants me! Let him have me!”

The Doctor, at this point, decided he’d heard enough and slipped out of the Impala’s backseat, shutting the door and walking around to where Annabelle and Sam are standing. He wasn’t entirely sure if the perception filter was still working or not, but he was willing to keep it on for now—just until he’d heard Sam’s final decision.

Sam sighed, defeated “Are you sure?”

“Death never scared me before. I have to, Sam. I have to.”

“We’ll find a way to bring you back,” he said after a pause.

She shook her head. “Don’t. He’ll probably put me somewhere millions of years from here. Thanks for everything. Be careful. Don’t let Dean do anything stupid.”

“You got it.”

She allowed both of the boys to hug her, tears in all of their eyes. Annabelle watched the Impala drive away before she sat waiting for the Doctor to come, knowing it was all over now.

He considered drawing out the suspense a few minutes longer, just to mess with her, then reconsidered and took off the perception filter. A crooked smile quirked on his face as he rocked back on his heels, keeping well out of range of her knife. “Hello.”

She threw all of her weapons into the brush, well out of both of their reach, and put her hands up, signaling surrender. “I’m done. I give up, although I suppose you already know that. Take me. Do what you want to me but leave Sam and Dean alone.”

He shrugged a little. “All right, I won’t hurt Dean or Sam. You, on the other hand . . .” He raked his eyes over her body before turning around and starting jogging. “TARDIS is over here. C’mon.” He knew they didn’t make it that far out of town before she had them stop the car—a couple miles at most, and the hotel was on the outskirts of town. Every so often, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was following him. Sixteen minutes later, they were at the entrance to town; it took another two minutes to arrive at the TARDIS. He opened the door, shoved her inside before stepping in after her and shutting the door. He took the jacket off and slung it over one of the coral struts on his way to the console. A few quick movements at the controls and they were in the Vortex, then deep space, spinning in orbit above a red star. The whole time he didn’t say anything, didn’t look twice at her, but the expression in his eyes was disturbing.

Annabelle sat down holding her knees to her chest. She truly wasn’t afraid of death, wasn’t afraid of him—but she certainly felt betrayed. It hit her again, seeing that look in his eyes. She wanted to cry but refused to look weak in front of him. Instead she said quietly, “It always had to end like this, didn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything for a long while, and the silence stretched uncomfortably between them. “If that’s how you want to think of it, then yes,” the Doctor finally said. He looked over at her, brown eyes almost black and expression just as dark.

She looked down at the floor. “Funny how things end up,” she mused. “You save me, now you kill me. Guess that’s what people call a viscous cycle, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t plan on killing you. Besides, _you’re_ the one who tried to kill _me_. Remember?”

“I was angry,” Annabelle defended. “Still am. I thought it was clear I wanted to be alone. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have done it.” She swallowed. She didn’t want to know the answer to her next question, but she asked it anyway. “What are you gonna do if you’re not gonna kill me?”

He smirked, but with the way his eyes were staring at her, he looked almost evil. “Where would the fun be in me telling you?”

“Nowhere, I guess. . . .”

“Exactly,” he said brightly. His face darkened. “Now, do you want to die?”

“I’ve thought about it . . . If I die it might solve the angel problem thus saving lives.” She shrugged half-heartedly, a note of defeat creeping into her voice. “Besides, you were right. I’m not important. I'm just a soldier. No one will really care.”

The Doctor shrugged. “There will come a time—or maybe it already has—when you’ll have the chance to do something courageous, to do the right thing. I love those moments! I like to wave at them as they pass by.”

“So I’m guessing you’re just gonna drop me somewhere?” She scowled. “Wonderful.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” the Doctor said quickly. His mouth turned up in a crooked grin. “Why don’t you get up, explore the TARDIS a little? Have some fun.” He noticed her dubious look. “Don’t worry,” he added, trying to reassure her. “I don’t bite—unless I feel like it or you piss me off.”

Annabelle sighed, got up, and walked out of the console room, wandering around aimlessly.

The Doctor followed her, standing silently in the doorway of the room she was currently in. She didn’t notice that he was there.

Annabelle had stumbled across her old room and was sitting down on the bed. She glanced around, noted that barely anything was there.

Her hand slid under the pillow, pulled out an angel blade she had stashed there. Annabelle regarded it for a moment before putting it back under the pillow with a wistful look, almost like she was wishing they were still allies.

“That wasn’t meant for me, was it?” the Doctor asked from where he was leaning against the doorframe of her old room, eyes fixed on the angel blade. His gaze flicked coldly up to hers.

She jumped at his voice, almost reached for the blade again. “No. No, it was never meant for you. None of my weapons were supposed to be for you. I try not to kill those I consider friends.” Her voice softened, and it sounded almost as if she were talking to herself: “Lately that’s been getting harder and harder. Maybe I just have bad judgment.”

“Or maybe that’s me,” he countered, “always picking little apes for companions.” A certain memory came to him, and he bit back a growl. “I actually had to kick one out because he took advantage of both me and Rose.”

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Adam.” He snarled the name, felt his nails dig into his palms.

“Did he try to kill you too, or was he just stupid?”

His voice turned bitter, scathing, as he explained, “Rose and me originally came across him in an underground museum that housed alien specimens, the only live one being a Dalek. It escaped its cage and exterminated practically everyone on the base. Rose, meanwhile, had been getting all chummy with him and mentioned to me that he wanted to see the stars. So I did a favor for her and let him come along with us to Satellite Five in the year 200100. The idiot then went off and got a computer chip installed in his brain so that he _is_ the computer, only it causes a little door to open up in his forehead so you can see his brain. He also stole Rose’s mobile and used it to call back to his own home and time, leaving a message about the history of computers. One second of that phone call could have changed your history. Besides that, he betrayed us, gave the Editor and Jagrafess information about me and Rose. He almost got us killed.”

“Ah. So, both?” Jokingly, Annabelle added, “Looks like I might have to cause some more trouble to achieve worst companion.”

“Oh, I’ve had worse than you, believe me.”

“Good. I didn’t want to put forth the effort anyhow.”

“What were you doing in here, anyway?” the Doctor asked suddenly.

“Just sitting. I mean, unless you want me to search through your personal belongings.”

He probably deserved that barb, but he didn’t care if she approved of his behavior or not. Instead, he decided to play with her a little. “What personal belongings?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips.

“I’m sure if I looked hard enough I could find some.” She gave him a challenging look, not bothering to even try to hide her smirk.

His own smirk looked almost evil now. He met her challenging gaze coolly, unflinching. His gaze was shrewd, calculating. “Then you’re going to be searching for a long time.” He shrugged in a devil-may-care way. “Who knows, you might even find yourself trapped in a room with no way out.” Yes, he was trying to provoke her, to scare her. Once, he would have felt guilty about that. Now, he felt nothing. He was a different man from who he had been.

“Challenge accepted,” Annabelle said. She slipped past him, started searching the TARDIS.

The Doctor silently ordered his ship to keep his room as far away from her as she could, along with the library, wardrobe, Rose’s room, and any room that had Gallifreyan items and records stored inside. He didn’t mind too much about the engine room, because there was a cliff Annabelle could fall off of—and personally, he could care less if she did. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want her getting her hands on Gallifreyan secrets—because she couldn’t read the circular script anyway, and really, he never let his previous companions know too much about his home planet—as the fact he didn’t want her having any more leverage against him than she already did. His ship did as he asked, and it was all he could do to keep from messing with Annabelle further. Then again, why shouldn’t he? It wasn’t like she’d be able to stop him, after all.

Annabelle, meanwhile, was running around the TARDIS mostly just entertaining herself. She almost fell off the cliff in the engine room but stopped herself with a yelp and continued searching.

Then she stumbled across the pool.

“You have a freaking pool in here?!” she cried in disbelief. “How is that even possible?!”

The Doctor shrugged, grinned. “Don’t look at me. I don’t even remember how it got here. She must have created a swimming pool when she regenerated from her last look.”

“Her last look? Do you have a farm hidden in here too? This is insane!” Clearly, Annabelle had forgotten that she was supposed to be mad at him, if only for a moment.

“No,” he said, going on to explain, “The TARDIS, she’s sort of like me. When she’s badly damaged, she’ll close herself off—refuse to let anyone in, including me—until she’s repaired herself. More often than not, the desktop theme changes, as does the number of rooms and what’s in them. TARDISes are built for at least six Time Lords to occupy; it’s just me in this one.”

“Interesting. What’s your favorite part of the TARDIS?”

The Doctor avoided the question, stepped close behind her. “Feel like taking a swim?” His hands were lightly resting at the small of her back.

She tensed under his hands before she turned quickly and stepped away from him. “I prefer to stay dry and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t touch me.”

He plastered an innocent look on his face, took a step forward. The pool was at her back, and if he could keep her moving back away from him . . . “Okay, then.” _Rule Number One: The Doctor lies._ “If that’s what you want . . .” He took another step forward.

Annabelle put her hand out, aware of the pool. The look on her face was dead serious. “Quit it. Seriously.”

“Why should I?” Before she could react, he gripped her by the wrists, pulled her to him. His gripped her wrists tightly, tight enough to break bone if she struggled, and it was hard for her to break free. His eyes held hers, dark, intense, making it almost impossible for her to look away. “You never did.” In that moment, he wasn’t sure if he was talking about himself, about the way she’d almost killed him, or about the numerous creatures she had probably tortured before killing. Either way, he didn’t care; he was busy fighting the desire to crush her, break her, to listen to her screams as he had his way with her.

“I never did _this_!” she cried. “Let go! Please stop!” she begged.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin, eyes sliding past her and calculating the distance. “No.” Then he released her, shoving her back away from him as he did so.

She stumbled back, falling into the pool with a splash. A horrified look in her eyes, she swam as far away as possible from his side of the pool. “What is wrong with you?!” she spluttered, spitting pool water out of her mouth as she glared at him while treading water.

“I’m not a demon or an evil shape-shifter if that’s what you mean.” The Doctor felt his lip curl in a disdainful sneer.

“I tried the silver; I know that! That’s not what I meant!” She swam to the other side and pulled herself out. “Don’t _ever_ touch me!” she yelled across the pool at him.

“I’m still the Doctor,” he said, answering her question. “I’m just not the Doctor you knew. That’s all.”

“I want the Doctor I knew back. At least _he_ knew how to respect boundaries!”

A shadow of his old smile flickered across his face. “That’s not happening. And this side of me has always been there. I’ve just stopped pretending.” Why was that so hard for her to understand?

Annabelle just glared at him before storming from the room, still dripping wet, and made sure to lock her door when she went to dry off and change.

He watched her leave, expression unreadable, and then went into Rose’s room. The TARDIS was still keeping it hidden from Annabelle, which he was grateful for, even though pain stabbed at his hearts whenever he occasionally came in here. But it helped remind him that she was real, that she hadn’t been a figment of his imagination—even though he hated himself for leaving her with a half-human clone of himself, a mere _shadow_ of a full Time Lord.

He was still there when the TARDIS alerted him to the fact that Annabelle had finished drying off and changing clothes. He slipped out of the room, headed down the twisting hallway.

In her room, Annabelle pushed any and all thoughts of the Doctor away. She covered her wrists with her sleeves and tried to sleep. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fall asleep. It felt as if she would be ambushed at any second, and she hated that feeling.

The Doctor walked by her room, paused for a moment, and then passed by. It wasn’t worth antagonizing her further, not now. If he pushed her too hard too soon, she would probably try stabbing him again—and he wasn’t fond of the idea of either dying or regenerating.

He headed to the wardrobe for another change of clothes—this time into a black suit with gray pinstripes and dark gray shirt with a red tie and red Converse—and then headed out into the console room, opened one of the doors, and sat there, watching the red star that his ship was orbiting. There was no sound for a while except the noise of the time rotor.

Annabelle, meanwhile, had snuck out of her room once she was sure he was gone and crept silently away from the console room—experience told her that was where he went to think.

After a while, the Doctor started feeling restless and wondered what his companion was up to. He climbed to his feet, stretched out the pins-and-needles, and walked out of the console room. “Annabelle?” he called.

She tensed at his voice and slipped into the nearest room, feeling her heart race as if she were avoiding some monster on a hunt.

The Doctor heard the doors slide shut and started in that direction, keeping silent. He didn’t want to alert her to the fact that he might have a fix on her location. Besides, it was his ship; did she really think she could hide from him?

-oOo-

Annabelle shrank back in the far corner of the room, trying to make herself seem as small as possible. If she did, then maybe he wouldn’t find her.

 _Oh, God, please don’t let him find me._ Her eyes squeezed shut: that old childhood thinking of _If I can’t see it then it can’t see me._ She felt sick with fear, like she was going to throw up. All those monsters, those supernatural creatures, she’d hunted . . . None of them had scared her this much.

The Doctor was the biggest monster of them all, she realized with dread. He could drop from the sky without warning, destroy everything you’d ever worked for, murder your entire species, and leave without so much as a backward glance. The cheerful smiles and hyperactivity had just been a mask, nothing more, covering up the darkness simmering within.

She hadn’t seen it in him because she hadn’t wanted to see it.

And that terrified her more than anything.

-oOo-

The Doctor slowly approached the room he thought his companion was hiding in, slid open the door. His eyes adjusted easily to the dark, and he could hear her shallow breathing. Mentally, he ordered the lights to brighten by twenty percent, making it bright enough for her to see him. Then he noticed Annabelle crouched in the far corner. He frowned. “What’re you doing in here?” he asked, puzzled, in the same tone of voice he’d used when asking Donna what she was doing in a wedding dress.

“Obviously I’m trying to summon the freaking devil,” Annabelle said sarcastically. “What do you think?”

Realization struck. “Oh.” For a genius Time Lord, he really could be a bit thick sometimes. But then again, he wasn’t human. Sometimes, he didn’t know how to cope with their onslaught of emotions, especially when those emotions were directed towards him.

“If you’re just gonna keep me locked in this ship and push me around I want to go home,” Annabelle said. It sounded more like a threat than a request.

He ignored it, his curiosity seizing on what she’d said earlier. “You can actually do that, though? Summon the devil?”

“With the power I'm supposed to possess, yes,” she said grudgingly. “But why would I do that if Sam gave his life to put the devil away? Now I want to go home.”

The Doctor studied her for a moment, then shrugged indifferently. “Okay then. S’not like I really wanted you around anyway,” he said coldly, deliberately, knowing it would hurt her. Once upon a time he did, but he had been a different man then. He started to leave, then turned back. “By the way, did you ever find any of my personal possessions?” Amusement flickered in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that she wasn’t sure if she even saw it.

He ducked as Annabelle threw the nearest thing she could find at him before curling up tighter, resting her head on her knees. Before she could throw anything else at him, he left.

A mixture of frustration and pain from the comment about him not wanting her there anyway took Annabelle over. A silent sob racked her body before she could stop it.

The Doctor didn’t see it. Even if he did, he wouldn’t have cared.

He went back into the control room, set the coordinates for the Impala. Its energy signal was fairly easy to track, and they materialized not far from where the car was parked.

-oOo-

Annabelle had just pulled herself together when she felt the TARDIS land. She scrambled to her feet and ran out. Finding Sam and Dean sleeping in the car, she knocked rapidly on the window.

Dean was the first to wake and climb out of the car. Annabelle nearly knocked the both of them over when she tackled him with a hug, holding him tight and letting herself cry openly. Dean wrapped his arms around her and glared at the Doctor. “What’d he do to you?” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll kill him, I swear.”

The Doctor exited the TARDIS, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it, arms folded over his chest. “I didn’t do much; certainly not what you’re probably thinking, Dean. And if you are, get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I was most certainly not thinking that!” Dean snapped. He tried to let go of Annabelle; she whimpered a little, and he hugged her again. “What the hell did you do?!” he demanded of the Time Lord.

“Since that information’s keeping me alive,” the Doctor drawled, “I’m hardly going to say, am I?”

Annabelle sniffled and let Dean go, wiping tears from her cheeks. “It’s nothing, Dean. I’m fine,” she said, trying to convince him as much as her.

“Obviously not!”

“I’ll be okay. He’s just . . . I don’t want to be around him anymore.”

“Alright,” Dean said finally. “Wait in the car. Tell Sam what happened. I’ll be right there.”

She nodded and got in the car.

Dean turned angrily on the Doctor. “You stupid son of a bitch,” he snarled. “Whatever you did to her we’re gonna do ten times worse to you.” He sneered. “I’m going to enjoy this.” Without warning, the hunter punched the Doctor hard across the face.

His vision swam; then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: you're probably going to hate us (well, me, really) for the ending of this chapter.
> 
> To give credit where credit is due, the poem the Doctor quotes is "The Spider and the Fly" by Mary Botham Howitt. Songs used include Hot Chelle Rae's "Honestly", the Imagine Dragons' "Every Night" and Def Leppard's "Billy's Got a Gun." Admittedly, I also used a line from Matt Smith's Doctor from "Nightmare in Silver" and some inspiration for the Doctor's lines came from the "Dark Doctor" tag on Tumblr.
> 
> Songs used in the previous chapter include the following: "Heroes", "Save Me", and "Second Chance" by Shinedown; "Desert Song", "Fractured Love", and "Die Hard the Hunter" by Def Leppard; and the Fray's "Over My Head."

The Time Lord snapped awake some time later, only to find he was somehow curled up in the trunk of the Impala. “Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me,” he muttered.

He could faintly hear Annabelle’s music playing. “What Hurts the Most” by Rascal Flats changed to the Imagine Dragons’ “Bleeding Out”. Faint sniffles caught his attention, and he strained to hear more.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Annabelle?” Dean asked.

“Even emotional stuff can be traumatic,” Sam’s voice added.

“I just need time,” he heard Annabelle say. “I’ll get over it.” Somehow, the Doctor wasn’t convinced that she would.

Eventually, he felt the Impala roll to a stop. There was the sound of car doors opening and shutting; then he found himself blinking against the sudden burst of light as the trunk door opened. The Doctor climbed out, wincing slightly as his muscles shrieked in protest, and then glared at the three hunters. “Well, then? Take me to your leader.” His face broke into a grin, and the effect was unnerving for the others. “I’ve always wanted to say that,” the Doctor added gleefully.

“Annabelle, go find a room,” Dean suggested to her, wanting to keep her away from the Time Lord. “Get some rest.” 

The teenage girl gave Dean a quick hug. She looked at the Doctor with tear filled eyes before walking away, going inside the bunker. 

“Man I haven’t seen her like this since Dylan,” Sam remarked when she was gone.

“That kid had an excuse,” Dean replied. “The Doctor? He’s just the Doctor. And now he's pissed me off and hurt Annabelle. That kid is everything to me.” 

The Doctor said nothing as the two Winchesters moved him to an interrogation room. Sam looked at him, something almost like pity in his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be you,” the Moose said. “Dean will find a way to get to you.” 

“You bet I will,” Dean growled at the Doctor.

The Time Lord shot him a hard, cold look. “I’d like to see you try.” 

‘Take a seat, Doctor,” Dean ordered. “Sam, go make sure Annabelle’s getting settled in.” Sam left the room, found Annabelle, and talked with her for a while.

Dean glared at the Doctor from across the room. “You screwed up.”

“Oh really? Do tell,” he drawled, leaning back in the chair and propping his feet up on the table.

“You don’t mess with a Winchester, especially not when they have living relatives.”

“Yes, and I’m the last Time Lord in existence because I killed all of them,” the Doctor said calmly, deadly, with a hint of a smile on his face. His eyes were nearly black, dead.

Dean finally had a sense of how old the Doctor really was, of how much he’d gone through in 906-plus years of existence. And it scared him, because he had no idea exactly what the Time Lord was really capable of. It took all his willpower not to move. “I guess you’ll just have to sit and think for a while,” he said finally, approaching the Doctor with some restraints.

The Time Lord shot out of his chair and backed away from the hunter, his hands in his pockets. His eyes wouldn’t meet Dean’s all of a sudden, like it physically hurt to look at the hunter. “Stay away from me,” he said in a low growl.

“Why? Because you said? Not enough. Maybe if you survive this, next time you’ll think twice before you hurt a teenager.” Dean kept moving toward the Doctor, dragged the chair out in front of him. “Take it like a man or Time Lord or whatever the hell you are.”

“Sorry, Dean, but just looking at you hurts. I’m a Time Lord. I can’t help it; it’s in my guts. You’re wrong, a fixed point in time and space. You’re a fact.”

“Obviously I’m a fact. I’m standing right in front of you. Sit. Now.”

“I meant a fact in time. Haven’t you wondered why you and your brother keep coming back from the dead?” He knew that would hold Dean’s interest, and he was right.

Dean hesitated, but only for a moment, before saying, “Someone cares for us. We know this angel, Castiel. He likes me better alive than as a corpse.”

The Doctor shook his head, a small smile on his face. “That’s not it, at least, not exactly. It looks like Jack wasn’t the only one Bad Wolf brought back to life—and he can’t die either.”

Dean’s jaw tensed. He relaxed in an attempt to control his growing frustration with this man who claimed to know everything. “Take a seat. Relax,” he said, forcing himself to sound friendly. “Tell me what you’re going on about."

The Doctor didn’t sit, but he did lean against the wall. “Rose, she took the Time Vortex into her, became the Bad Wolf. She used that power to erase the Daleks from the Game Station, to spread the words ‘Bad Wolf’ across time and space. As Bad Wolf, she also brought Captain Jack Harkness back to life—and probably you and Sam as well—but she couldn’t control it. She brought the three of you back forever. It’s ironic, isn’t it,” he mused, “that the final act of the Time War was life?” His voice hardened, a mixture of regret and anger swirling in his eyes. “And she can’t reverse it, because I took all of the power out of her. I killed myself for a foolish, selfish _human_ girl, and for what? She still left me. They all do.”

“Obviously you were a better person back then. If we’re selfish what does that make you? Does being the last of your kind make it okay? What kind of legacy will that leave for your kind?”

“No, I wasn’t a better person back then. I was worse, having just come from the Time War and traveled on my own for so long before meeting her.” A half-smile flickered on his face. “When we first encountered a lone Dalek in a museum, I tortured it, almost killed it before the humans tore me away. I regenerated into this form after taking the Vortex from Rose.”

“You didn’t answer my questions.”

“The war turned into hell during the final days. The High Council released a horde of travesties: The Nightmare Child, the Could-Have-Been King and his armies of Meanwhiles and Never-Weres. Rassilon and his followers had a plan to ascend, to become creatures of consciousness only. It wasn’t just the Time Lords and Daleks that suffered; the war devastated higher species, had the whole bloody universe convulsing. My people were just as hated as the Daleks. So, really, there’s not much of a legacy to tarnish. As for me . . .” The Doctor shrugged with a menacing glint in his eyes. “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”

“Who said you have to become the villain?”

“What makes you think anyone said I had to?” the Doctor countered coolly.

“Nothing, I guess.”

“Is there anything else you want to know? Cos if not I’m leaving. And you can’t stop me.” The Doctor started to shove off from the wall, took a couple steps forward.

Dean reacted quickly. Before the Time Lord could blink, Dean had pinned him to the wall with no possible way for the Doctor to overpower him. “You’re not leaving,” Dean stated in a low voice.

The Doctor stared Dean down coldly, unflinching. “If you don’t like me now,” he said, “you’re going to _hate_ me when I’m caged. Because if there’s one thing you never _ever_ want to trap, it’s _me_. You also never answered my question.”

“I’ve got plenty more to ask but since you mentioned you don’t like to be caged I’ll just let you sit for a while.”

Dean left the room, locking it with a wooden lock. He found Sam and Annabelle in a room not far off the interrogation room. Sam had a laptop up and running; Dean knew that it was connected to the camera in the interrogation room. He glanced at Sam quizzically, surprised that Annabelle was even in the room. Sam shrugged and said, “She sat there and wouldn't move.”

A few minutes after Dean had gone, the Doctor began pacing the interrogation room, strides short and tense. A frustrated growl rose from his throat when he realized the lock was made of wood and therefore he couldn’t use his sonic. “Oh, bloody shagging fantastic,” he snarled angrily.

Eventually he sat on the edge of the table, but this body was not one to stay still for very long. His eyes searched the upper corners, homed in on the camera. So, they were watching him, were they? Even better. “Come on, then,” he addressed the Winchesters through the camera. His voice turned low, sinister. “Wakey-wakey, boys and girls.”

Annabelle snapped to attention at his tone, the fact that he’d noticed the camera. “Sam, shut it down,” she ordered, panicked.

“What? No way.” 

“Shut it down now. Please. For me.” She hated that a pleading note had crept into her voice, but this freaked her out more than she cared to admit. 

“Shut it down, Sammy,” Dean ordered.

Sam shot his brother a pissed look before turning to the teen. “Annabelle, can’t you just go to another room?” he suggested.

Slowly, she crept out of Observation and inched toward Interrogation. What am I even doing? she thought. Annabelle hesitated before opening the door and slipping inside. Sitting silently against the door, she began absentmindedly wrapping a wire from her ear buds around her finger, then unwrapping it. She forced herself not to acknowledge the Doctor at all.

Surprise flickered across his face when she came in, but he hid it before either Sam or Dean could pick up on it. Besides, he could use this to his advantage. “I wasn’t expecting to see you in here just yet,” he said. “Dean maybe, but _you_?" He chuckled, but it was humorless, dark. “And here I was getting the feeling you want nothing to do with me.”

Annabelle continued ignoring him, but she couldn't hide her sadness at how cold he'd become. She was hoping for some little spark of warmth, someone to ask how she felt and really follow through with it. This wasn’t what she wanted; this wasn’t how she wanted things to work out for her. The tears welled in her eyes again. She didn’t try to hide them, just scooted a little deeper into the corner.

“What, nothing?” The Doctor paused, studied her. “I take it you’re not going to try and save me—if you even can.” He added slyly, “You never _did_ tell me if you found anything of mine on the TARDIS.”

She ignored him still, but turned up her music a bit. “Honestly” by Hot Chelle Rae blasted from the headphones:

_“Honestly, why are my clothes out on the street? Honestly, I think you’ve lost your mind. I can’t believe I came home to find my car keyed. Honestly, I’m way too tired to fight. I’ll go out get drunk again. Make out with all your dumb friends. Tag your face just to rub it in. I’m ’ma go cuz I got no problem with saying goodbye. Is it wrong that I’m gonna be having the time of my life? Cuz deep down I know I should cry, I should scream, and get down on my knees. I should say that I need you here. But I’m gonna party tonight, cuz honestly I just don’t care.”_

Sam and Dean were watching with disbelieving eyes from Observation.

“What’s she doing?!” Dean hissed. “Is she insane?!” He made up his mind in that instant. “I’m gonna go get her."

He made to rise and go for the door, but Sam put a restraining hand on his arm. “No,” the younger Winchester said. “No, let her try whatever she’s trying to do. He’s taken an interest in her.”

 _And that’s a_ good _thing?_ Dean thought uneasily.

In the interrogation room, the Doctor leaned back on the table, tilted his head as he studied her. He could hear the lyrics, but they meant nothing to him. “Feel free to talk,” he invited. “I don’t bite—unless you like that.”

She glanced at him. It was quick, barely noticeable, and then she went back to the wire, wrapping it a little too tightly for her own good before unwrapping it. She pulled up her sleeves so he could see her bruised wrists. It was a clear accusation, and they both knew it. “ _You_ did this,” she reminded him.

“What’s she thinking?” Dean said incredulously. Sam shrugged, unable to come up with a reply.

The Doctor’s shoulders lifted in an indifferent shrug. “Yeah. And? As I recall, you didn’t even try that hard to get away.”

The look on her face darkened. She moved on from that, pulling the sleeves down again. Annabelle took out a different notebook of hers, one he’d never seen before, and slid it toward him. The cover read _Adventures with the Doctor_ in her best handwriting. 

“That’s a new one,” Sam muttered.

The Doctor flipped to the back, sped-read it in a second, and then tossed it back to her. The expression on his face didn’t change. “You’d better be careful where you keep that,” he advised. “You wouldn’t want nosy hands getting hold of it.” He glanced meaningfully toward the camera, then back to the teenager. “Get out.”

She left the notebook but only moved to just outside the door. Annabelle locked it behind her, decided she would be back later.

“What was that?” Dean asked his brother, puzzled.

Sam shook his head, bewildered. “I don’t know.”

The Doctor’s eyes found and held the camera again. “Well, Sam? Dean? Having fun watching, are we?” His voice hardened. “I don’t like being kept waiting,” he said ominously.

Sam and Dean said nothing, just watched. Annabelle, sitting outside the Interrogation door, made her presence known by unplugging the ear buds. “Every Night” by Imagine Dragons played softly: _“I’m the colorless sunrise that’s never good enough. I’m the wind that’s in your hair that ruffles you up. If you can find a reason then you can let me know. I won’t blame you. I’ll just turn and go. . .”_

“You and your bloody music,” the Doctor muttered under his breath, annoyed. He hopped off the table, stalked over to the door. “Then go already.” His voice was a snarl. “Better yet, run. And don’t even think about going to the TARDIS; she won’t help you.”

“Maybe the music is better company than all of you combined!” she screamed at him. “Maybe I’m done trying to help! Maybe I’M GIVING UP ON EVERYTHING!!!”

He grinned, brown eyes glinting. “You really are turning into me, aren’t you?” The grin died. “I already told you to leave. You get one warning. That was it.”

“Obviously I’m not taking it!” she retorted. “What are you gonna do about it? Yell at me? There is nothing you can say or do to make my opinion of you lower!”

He didn’t say anything, just glowered at her through the window on the door. Annabelle could feel the pent-up fury, hate, and darkness rolling off him in waves. There was a reason he was called the Oncoming Storm.

She was looking at it.

Annabelle didn't budge, just looked back at him with the same hate and fury in her glare. She was done running, done listening to him try to be dominant, done pretending she could handle his betrayal. Besides, what was the point anymore? Everyone either did something like this to her or died on her. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to take on his rage; maybe it would give her some sort of closure. If it didn’t, maybe he would just kill her. Right now, that would be okay with her: She couldn’t lose anyone else.

“Do you want to die?” His mouth stretched in a dark smirk. “Annabelle,” he said when she didn’t respond immediately, and he was reminded of another time with another companion when he’d asked the same question. There had been a door separating them as well.

“I should be dead already. Sam and Dean should’ve let me go the first time. You should’ve done away with me when I gave you the chance.” She sighed, suddenly sounding tired, and for the first time he remembered that she was only fourteen years old. “Now? I want to go home to my family in Colorado. I want to feel peace for the first time in my entire freaking life. I’m done. I’m done with it all. I don’t want to be a part of this. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to be in a bunker in the middle of nowhere. So yeah, I think I want to die, don’t you?”

The Doctor smiled to himself. _The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,_ he thought, _for well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again: So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly, and set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly._ “Then let me out and I can take you home,” he said cajolingly. “No more stops along the way. Promise. Trust me,” he coaxed her.

“Why should I trust you? You’ve done nothing but hurt me the past few days.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve seen the error of my ways?” ( _“Will you step into my parlor?” said the Spider to the Fly._ )

“Rule number one: the Doctor lies,” she shot back.

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, didn’t think you would.” He fished around in his pocket, searching, and pulled out the Master’s laser screwdriver. He’d taken it from the other Time Lord’s body, hidden it in this suit ages ago, and he’d almost forgotten he’d even had it in the first place. Since the sonic doesn’t do wood, he had a feeling the laser screwdriver would. “Figured it was worth a shot.” He aimed the screwdriver at the lock, set to work.

“I hate you. I hate you with my entire being!” she yelled at him, furious. “Shut it down, Sam, now! You’re all idiots!” she ranted. “This is useless! It’s all useless! What's the freaking point?!” Annabelle unlocked the door for him, on the verge of tears again. 

At that, the Doctor couldn’t help smirking, lines from a Def Leppard song running through his mind: _Never give him an even break. Getting caught is the chance you take. It could be your last mistake. . . ._

“Get out!” Annabelle was still screaming. “Leave! All of you leave me the hell alone unless you actually have something helpful to say!” She stormed out, leaving the bunker, and wandered into the woods. The teenage girl found a tall tree and climbed up into it. Staring at the sky, she felt more tears run down her face and didn‘t bother trying to wipe them away.

The Doctor, as soon as Annabelle was gone, switched screwdrivers and aimed the sonic at the camera, causing it to short out and leave Sam and Dean in the dark. Satisfied, he stepped out into the hallway, turned, and started walking.

“Go after the Doctor,” Dean told his brother. “I’ll find Annabelle.” Dean didn’t wait for Sam’s answer and ran to find the teenage girl who was like a little sister to him.

Sam stepped out to meet the Doctor. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out.” He didn’t stop and didn’t even glance at the Moose.

“Hey!” Sam stepped in front of him, more than a little bit irritated that the Time Lord had somehow managed to wrestle control of the situation like he did with pretty much everything. Besides, this was his home, had been for the past few months. “You’re not leaving,” Sam said firmly.

The Doctor glared at Sam, sidestepped, and kept going. “Watch me.”

Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him back before he could go very far, throwing the Time Lord onto the floor. “No.”

The Doctor’s eyes blazed angrily up at the hunter. He concentrated, was able to see Time curling around the human in twisted, golden strands. It would be so, so easy . . .

Without saying anything, he sprang to his feet, nails digging into his palms. The Doctor could easily picture the blood coating his hands, dripping from his fingers. In his mind his clothes, the hallway, was already stained with the dark red liquid, most of it Sam’s. “Get out of the way.” His voice was deceptively quiet, calm.

Sam‘s unflinching gaze met his. “No.”

“Then what happens next is your own doing.”

That was the last thing Sam heard. 

The Doctor concentrated on the golden threads, pulling Time into, around, and through Sam. Within seconds, the only thing that was left was a pile of ashes, and he stepped over them and continued on his way. “Let’s see how long it’ll take you to come back from that,” the Doctor murmured.

_No second chances. I’m that sort of a man._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already said that this is a DarkTen fic, but I'm warning you guys again. As such, please note that this fic may cover topics that may make you uncomfortable. Dark Ten or Dark Doctor is sort of a genre or trope that means: He's portrayed in a dark, twisted, sexually aggressive or morally questionable manner throughout part of the story and may contain topics that might bother some readers.
> 
> Trigger warnings: Torture and underage sex (well, more like foreplay).

Dean, unable to find Annabelle, went back to the interrogation portion of the bunker to make sure Sam was okay (and so he could check on the Doctor). 

“Sam?” he called.

There was no reply.

Dean took another step forward, saw something on the floor. Upon looking closer, he saw that it was a pile of ashes. After a moment the realization hit him, and he screamed hoarsely, the sound full of anger and grief. “Sammy!”

Annabelle heard him from her hiding place and ran to see what happened. When she found Dean and the ashes, she fell to her knees. She couldn’t even manage to say anything or cry.

The Doctor heard Dean’s scream, resisted the temptation to go back and look even though he knew it wouldn’t be long until they came looking for him. He picked up his pace, not even sure where he was going at the moment or where the exit was.

Dean, not knowing what else to do, armed himself and tried to hand Annabelle an angel blade. She didn't move, didn't even show she knew Dean was there. “Come on, kid,” Dean said gruffly. “We’ve gotta find him before he gets too far.”

Annabelle didn’t react. Dean, impatient, left her to find his brother’s killer.

-oOo-

The Doctor burst into the main room of the bunker, looked around. Oh yes, this could very easily be the lost branch of Torchwood. It even reminded him of the Hub, and a growl rumbled in his throat as he remembered that Jack was now working for _them_.

He never had fully trusted the ex-Time Agent anyway.

A whistling noise reached his ears and he whirled, ducking to avoid the knife as it flew past his head.

Dean caught him by the collar, held him up. “Oh you've _really_ done it now!” the hunter snarled angrily. “Where should I start? Or should I just let it go and rip into you?”

The Doctor felt a twinge of irritation that a human was handling him like this, but forced it down. He had to remain calm if he was going to talk Dean into letting him down. Or manipulate him, whichever was necessary. When it came to his personal safety, he would do whatever he had to, even if it meant killing the only other person Annabelle had cared about. (He wasn’t even sure if Sam was able to come back from dust. Captain Jack‘s body had always been more or less intact when he died.) “If you kill me,” the Doctor said in a reasonable voice, “you won’t find out what happened to your brother.” Somehow, even when facing an angry hunter, he managed to have an insolent look in his eyes, an almost bored expression on his face, like this really wasn’t worth his time and he had other places to be.

Dean bared his teeth in a feral smile. “No. I want you dead.” He placed the knife at the Doctor’s stomach. “And I will make sure you’re really dead.”

The Doctor grinned and went completely still. There was something dangerous in his eyes, his grin. “You know, someone told me recently I was going to die. They said ’He will knock four times.’ I know what that means, and it doesn’t mean right now here with you, because I don’t hear anyone knocking, do you?” His left hand slowly curled around Dean’s, twisted his wrist hard enough to both break bone and cause Dean to drop the knife. His other hand inched up, toward Dean’s temple. Before the hunter could draw back, he planted the suggestion of letting him go, of not killing him just yet. He withdrew when his work was done, being careful so that the hunter never knew he was in his mind. “Besides, looking at you, Dean, is like looking in a mirror. We’re the same, you and me. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“We are nowhere near the same.”

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Everyone we grow close to dies, our families gone forever—or as good as. Neither of us have a permanent home. We’ve both taken more innocent lives than we can count.” His voice grew softer. “How much longer, Dean, until you give in?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You may have taken innocent lives but I haven’t. If someone innocent dies on me it’s because of the monster not me. I have a home. It’s in Lincoln or maybe here—wherever Annabelle wants to settle after this mess. Sure, people die, but that’s part of the job.”

“Even Lisa? Ben? Jo? Hellen? Ash? They’re all dead because of you and your brother. Do I have to mention how Cass has given up everything for you?”

He’d struck a nerve. “That was Cass’s choice, and don’t _ever_ bring up Ben and Lisa.”

“Fine, then. Just put me down, yeah? I won’t try anything, I promise. Trust me.” He flashed a crooked smile. “I’m the Doctor.” Somehow, it didn’t have the same comforting ring to it that it did before. He didn’t care. 

Suddenly Annabelle’s voice came from behind the Doctor. Her voice was soft, but somehow it was clear she was about to do something extremely stupid: “No. There will be no more killing.”

Dean moved to the side so that he could see Annabelle. A look of worry crossed his face when he saw that Annabelle, despite her claim of no more killing, had an angel blade in her hand. She was gripping it so tightly her knuckles had turned white; her eyes said she couldn’t take this anymore. The teenager said calmly, “We are going to sit down and talk through everything like the civilized people we can all be. All of us will walk away unharmed and allies at least friends at best.”

“And if one of us tries something?” Dean asked. 

Annabelle moved the blade so it was aimed at her own stomach. “If either of you try something, both of you will watch me die.”

The Doctor muttered a curse in Gallifreyan, spun around. His eyes glittered strangely as they rested on her for a moment; then he turned away, towards Dean, his back to her. “Fine, then. Go ahead. Kill yourself. See if I care.”

“You won’t care. Why would you start caring now?” she retorted bitterly. “Dean’s all I have left. I’m not putting him in any more danger.” 

“Annabelle—” 

“No, Dean.” Her voice was firm but shaky as she continued, “I know it’s hard for you to accept, but Sam . . . he’s gone for good this time. No body means no place for the soul. You know that. I know that. And it hurts. Everything about this hurts, Dean. If I lose you, what would the point of going on be? I can’t risk it.” 

“I know I know. Just put the blade down. It’ll be okay.” 

“I won't put it down until we have all made nice. That's the deal.”

The Doctor swung back around. “If it would make you feel better, you can always torture me,” he suggested. He paused. “Oh, did I say torture? I meant interrogate.”

“I didn’t want you here. Dean’s vengeful side wanted you here. I’m ready to move on and forget about you. Here's your chance. Walk away while I have control of the room.”

“You’re the one who wants to be done with all this,” the Doctor pointed out. “Why don’t you just walk away? We’re not going to stop you.”

“You’ll just follow. I tried to walk away remember? Besides I'm not leaving without Dean.” Annabelle put the blade down. 

“No one’s gonna start a fight,” Dean said.

Distrust flared in her eyes as she looked between the two men. “How do I know?” Annabelle asked suspiciously.

“Because I give you my word,” the Doctor said. “And right now, my word’s all you’ve got.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him. “I can’t trust you anymore. Would you really care? Would you even feel a little bit of sadness if I died? Prove that to me and I'll put the blade down.”

“Whatever else I’ve done, however else I’ve changed, I don’t go back on my word. You can trust me on that. And I’ve told you before I don’t want to kill you. There are others who want you dead; I don’t.”

She stood there for a moment locking eyes with him, trying to make sure. Then she dropped the blade, fell to her knees again, and started sobbing.

Dean kicked the blade away from her, crouched in front of her, and hugged her, whispering, “It’s okay. Let it go, Annabelle. It'll be okay.” He mouthed the words “thank you” to the Doctor over her shoulder.

“I wanna see my mom and dad, Dean. I want them back. I wanna see Lisa and Andrew, too. And I want Sam back. I want my parents.” Annabelle hated how childish she must sound, but then she remembered she was just a child and she had every right to want her mom and dad—especially with all the pressure she was under.

“I know, kid,” Dean said. “When we’re done here we’ll call Cass in. He’ll take you to see your mom and dad, okay?”

Annabelle nodded, holding on to Dean like he was the only thing keeping her there.

The Doctor, meanwhile, buried his hands in his pockets and fidgeted, uncomfortable with domestics. Then, as if he was reluctant to give them anything, he said haltingly, “Sam might have come back by now. Hard to tell for sure; with Jack, his body was usually intact. Then again, Time reacts differently with you Winchesters.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Now, if you two are done with domestics, am I free to go?” 

“You don't understand,” Annabelle snapped at him. “Sam can’t come back. He’s gone forever now. He doesn't have a body to come back to at all. That's why we salt and burn bodies to ban them forever. You destroyed Sam's body. Get out of here.” She turned away from the Time Lord. “Please don’t come back again. You’ve done quite enough damage here.” 

“Goodbye, Doctor,” Dean added in a voice that said the decision was final.

The Doctor started to walk off, then stopped and turned around. “I just took him out of time and space; I don’t have any idea where he ended up. Those ashes? Usually that’s what’s left of a transmat beam. Though, in his case, I didn’t exactly use a transmat or teleport. Long story short: he’s not really dead. Well, maybe, if he ended up in the Void. But then, not my problem.” He shrugged, kept on walking. “And after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve seen, I have just one thing to say to you: _Bye_!” He gave a little half-wave of his fingers toward the hunters.

Annabelle was up and at his side in seconds. “No. Take me to Sam _now_.”

He didn’t look at her. “Why should I? You lot tried to kill me.”

“You’ve done worse to people for betraying you. You've said it yourself,” she reminded him bitterly. “I’ve lost enough people already’ and if you think you can tell me Sam’s alive and then just walk away you’re crazy. Now, you know my temper and you know Dean’s temper. There’s no one to hold us back now. It would probably be a good choice for you to bring Sam back.”

“And you know what I’ve done when I’m angry. I hid from the Family of Blood to save them from the fury of a Time Lord, but they mistook my nonviolent tendencies for weakness. Each of them is in their own eternal hell just because they pissed me off. I could have drowned just the Empress of the Racnoss, but I drowned her _and_ her children instead. So tell me again how I’m such a good person; why I should bring Sam back just to avoid the wrath of some human hunter and a teenage girl. And tell me again how you’ve lost so many people. All of my companions are gone, some probably dead, and I killed my _family_ along with my people. There were so many children on Gallifrey who died when I activated the Moment.” He chuckled darkly and added, almost to himself, “The Beast was right. I knew him as he knew me: The killer of my own kind.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Leave me. I’m a smart girl. I can do things for myself. You were just an escape for me between cases. I never needed you. Have fun out there all alone and go whine to someone else about your actions and mistakes. It’s ironic, really: you always talk about running from your past yet here you are always reminding me that no matter how much I’ve screwed up you’ve screwed up more and no matter how sad I am you’re ten times sadder and no matter who I've gotten killed you've murdered dozens of species. Bang up job you’re doing making up for all that murder and sadness and all those screw ups. At least I can grow up knowing that no matter what I do you've done worse. At least I know I can never live up to the Doctor’s legacy.” She let him walk away and went back to Dean, looking at her adoptive guardian's injured wrist.

The Doctor didn’t say anything. Instead of walking out, he ducked back around to where he last saw Sam, thinking over her words in his mind. He never really needed her anyway, but blimey, he didn’t think he was actually whining. Time Lords did _not_ whine—and anyway, he’d gone through so much, lost so much, and he was running from his impending regeneration, so didn't that give him some right to unload everything? And right now, he could care less if either Annabelle or Dean found him, captured him, and tortured him. Hell, he’d probably even enjoy it—up until the point he snapped and lashed out, gave them their own eternal punishment.

Rassilon, when did he go and turn into the Master?

Besides, he might as well go test his earlier theory about Sam. And if it didn’t pan out, well, she’d already established that his number one rule was The Doctor lies.

-oOo-

Dean meant to keep his promise about taking Annabelle to see her family, and he was not about to go to a doctor to fix his wrist when Cass could heal him up.

Annabelle, meanwhile, decided the visit could be put off if Sam really was alive—he took priority, after all. As far as the Doctor went, he could burn in hell for all she cared. Yeah it hurt to think that after she thought she could trust him, but this was just how things always turned out for her: someone came along and made her happy then they broke her heart, intentionally or not. There would be no more of that, no more getting attached. Sam, Dean, and Cass would be her only immediate family now—no one else would be allowed to know the real her anymore. She’d be a warrior to them—nothing more, nothing less.

While Dean and Annabelle were preoccupied, the Doctor knelt down next to the pile of ashes, ran his fingers through it. Yep, he lied to the two hunters. He did take Sam out of time, but in doing so, that killed him—and he didn’t think even the Bad Wolf could do anything about that.

Dean called Cass in, who fixed Dean’s wrist and turned to Annabelle, who had immersed herself in finding anything that may help. Cass couldn’t persuade her to turn away from her work. 

After a while, Dean became bored of watching Annabelle do research and poked her. She turned angrily on him. “What?” she snarled. 

“I just thought you might want to take a break. If he’s still alive, he can survive a little longer without us.”

“No. I’m gonna work now. I’m not gonna stop until Sam is with us. You’re gonna leave me alone—maybe go get some coffee, because I’m not sleeping either. We’re not losing Sam, got it?”

“Yes ma’am. Geez, when did you become a drill sergeant?”

“I’m done playing games, Dean. If you’re gonna be obnoxious while I’m trying to save your brother then go find somewhere else to be.”

The look in her eyes was so intense so stony cold that Dean backed down. He left the room to get coffee—as she suggested—and found the Doctor in the hallway where they’d found what remained of Sam. “Uh, Annabelle?” he called. 

“What is it _now_?” was the irritable reply.

“I think I found how you’re gonna find Sam . . .” 

Footsteps sounded as Annabelle came to see this method herself. A sinister smile crossed her lips as she took in the sight before her. You’re not the only one who can change, Doctor, she thought. “Tie him up, Dean. I want him in the interrogation room in ten minutes. Don’t rough him up or anything. He’s mine.” She fixed the Doctor with a cold look, that sinister smile still on her lips.

Hearing her voice, the Doctor turned around, smiled his own dark, sinister smile. “I was wondering how long it would take.” His brown eyes were black in the dim light, but he didn't seem surprised at all. Actually, it seemed like he was expecting them.

Caught between the two of them, Dean wanted to run. 

He stayed put. 

“I’ll go gather what I need and we can have a nice little . . . talk,” Annabelle said. To her guardian she added, “Don’t keep me waiting, Dean.” She walked away at a leisurely pace to retrieve her angel blade.

Dean took the Doctor by the arm, turned him, and began to tie his wrists together. “Sorry man. You should’ve left when you had the chance.” Dean quickly searched the Doctor for weapons or anything useful, took what he could find, and led the Doctor into the interrogation room and tied him to a chair. 

It wasn’t long before Annabelle walked in. She tossed her bag onto a table and walked in a slow circle around the Doctor, reaching out and letting her hand run over his shoulders. The teenager stopped in front of him and pulled up a chair for herself. She met his eyes, kept his attention. “Well, well, Time Lord,” she drawled. “I’m surprised you stayed. You know it’s dangerous to infiltrate the enemy’s base. I’ve done some thinking and you know what I realized?”

He didn’t say anything, just lazily raised an eyebrow—the gag over his mouth prevented him from speaking. The drawling “What?” was there in his eyes, along with a sarcastic “Do tell.”

“This world is apathetic. Everyone in it wants to be special but there's no way for that to happen, is there? That thought”—she rose, moved to her bag, and started digging through it—“led to this one: The angels are right. We need a good old fashioned apocalypse, wouldn’t you agree?” She brought out a knife, the smile returning as she ran it along her own skin.

The Doctor shrugged.

Annabelle rolled her eyes and cut away the gag, slicing his cheek. “Oops. Sorry,” she said, voice dripping with saccharine. “Anyway, I can have all the power in the world. I can do anything I want—and it all starts here with your defeat.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just leveled her with that Oncoming Storm glare. The silence was more unnerving than when he was going on about the Time War, the Family, the lives he’d taken, and she sensed that he could do the same thing to her that he did to Sam—or worse—and wouldn’t feel any remorse whatsoever about it.

Her smile didn’t waiver; she didn’t care anymore. “‘Feel free to talk. I don’t bite,’” she mocked, throwing his earlier words back at him. “‘Oh wait, I do, but feel free to talk anyway.’ With all your superiority, I’m sure you can handle whatever I throw at you.” Wanting to provoke him, she walked casually around him. Stopping behind him, she put her lips right next to his ear and whispered, “Did you ever show your dark side to that girl you loved so much? What was her name? Renee? Rachel? Raina?”

Anger flared in his eyes, was there in his voice. “Rose,” he corrected, “and yes, I did. She had to _beg_ for me to save the ‘last human’, to save a Dalek that was on its own and mutating because it had absorbed her DNA after it had exterminated everyone in the museum.” His lips twitched slightly. “I didn't listen.”

“Oh, that was it! Rose! Such a beautiful, delicate flower. She begged, huh? And of course you didn’t listen. You never would. After all, what do we humans know? Our minds are so . . . diverse, though, aren’t they? We fascinate you. That’s why you keep us around. She probably liked it, your delicate little flower. Power is definitely a turn on—I mean, until you try to control her. Then she”—Annabelle struck him hard across his already-wounded cheek—“lashes out.” 

The Doctor gritted his teeth but other than that gave no sign that he felt anything. “Well, she managed to find her way back to me after I tricked her into going home several hundred years in her past, so I must have done something right. And Rose wasn’t delicate.”

“Must have,” Annabelle agreed, “but now she’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do, is there? Must be weird to feel powerless.”

He didn’t say anything, but a low growl escaped before he bit it back. Powerless? He was a Time Lord; he could control Time itself, and none of his people could stop him because they were all dead.

Suddenly he started laughing, but it was humorless, almost insane. “Powerless, eh? Oh, next time I really _do_ need a bigger head.” The Doctor shook his head and said softly, “I can’t believe it’s taken me all this time to realize . . .”

In the next second, the knife was at his throat. In a threatening manner, she slid it down his neck, following an imaginary line from his throat, down his shoulder and arm to his wrist, where she made a deep cut. “Uh-uh-uh,” she scolded, as if speaking to a child. “No laughing, Doctor. This is a very serious conversation.”

“’Course it is,” he agreed, “but you never let me finish.” He grinned, but there was nothing sane about it. “It’s taken me all these years to realize that the Laws of Time are mine—and they _will_ obey me.” Concentrating on the ropes’ timeline, he aged them past their durability and subtly slipped his wrists free. He didn’t want to draw attention to his free hands, not yet, so he flicked his eyes up to hers. “Like I told you before, the Time Lords used to control the Laws of Time, but they’re all dead—and that just leaves me. And killing me won’t help you, so don’t even try.”

“Oh I didn’t plan on killing you. Just roughing you up enough, and I’m far from done.” Her eyes flitted to the cut she just made on his wrist, widened as she realized the rope was gone. She had to distract him, keep him still. Only one possible solution came to mind. Well, she thought, it’s worked on vampires. . . . 

The teenager slowly lowered herself down onto his lap, her eyes holding his. She lowered her voice to a soft purr: “You were right, you know. I have been looking and I do like it. This whole dark thing suits you well. It’s kinda sexy.”

“Oh, really?” He smirked, raised an eyebrow at her. His hands settled at her waist, slowly slid up her body. Luckily, he was still skilled at sleight-of-hand and was able to rid her of her other weapons—a knife, a small gun—without her noticing. Not that she would have cared, he suspected—he could feel her body quivering beneath his touch.

Her hands slid up his arms, rested on his collar for a second. “Really.” She leaned in and kissed him as she pulled back his jacket, gently sliding it down his arms.

His mouth left hers, trailing down her neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, nipping at her pulse point even as his hands were sliding off her jacket.

She nipped playfully at his ear, couldn’t stop the slight moan that escaped as he slipped one hand under her shirt, his touch cool on her burning skin as he drew her even closer to him. Then she was reaching for his tie, taking it off, and unbuttoning his shirt. 

He suddenly gripped her wrists tightly before she could undo the fourth button. In the next two seconds he had her up against the nearest wall, his body pressed fully against her, face buried in the crook of her neck. He pressed another kiss there before slowly traveling up, his breath hot on her ear, lips cool on her skin. “Did you really think you could use _this_ ”—he rocked his hips forward—“as a means to distract me?” His voice was a low growl, and even with his mouth close to her ear she had to strain to make out the words. The Doctor could feel the tremor run through her, heard her breathing hitch despite herself; and something inside him grinned a wolfish grin, urged him to go further. It would finish what he’d started if he didn’t stop.

“I figured it was worth a try,” Annabelle said. “Now that you know my little game you can get off of me.” She tried to get out of his grip, but his close proximity and tight hold made it difficult. So she flipped their positions instead. A smile crossed her lips as she glanced to the side and saw her bag was in reach. She lunged for it, took out a pair of handcuffs. Seconds later she was clicking the first bracelet into place around his wrist, the second around a leg of the table her bag was on. She took the bag and retreated to the other side of the room.

The Doctor instantly struggled to break free, let out a snarl when the cuffs held. His dark eyes blazed up at her. “ _Handcuffs_?!” he said incredulously. Then he muttered to himself, “Though, really, it’s funny how often this happens.” He raised his voice: “Well, now that you’ve got me bound up, what are you going to do?” His eyes swept over her, taking in her flushed appearance, lingered on the marks he’d made. “Never figured you as one for BDSM,” he commented. “Bit kinky, isn’t it?”

She shuddered, grimaced. “First of all, _eww_. And, yeah, handcuffs.” Noticing his stare, she added pointedly, “My face is here.” So saying, she pointed at her face. “I prefer you keep your eyes there. You sorta asked for it. What’d you do with the ropes anyway?”

“Oh, just aged them past their breaking point.” He shrugged casually. “It’s nothing. Time is, after all, my domain.”

“I should’ve guessed. I guess I should’ve chosen a better distraction.” She paused, shifted her weight.

“Maybe. Why?” He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed them, rested his hands in his lap, and looked up at her with hooded eyes. “Would you prefer this? Or do you have something else in mind?”

“What I have in mind is lots of caffeine and for you to treat me with some respect,” she retorted. “One wrong look and I can beat you as severely as I want. Dean’s not gonna hold me back. I scare him when I get this way.” 

There was a knock at the door. 

“Speaking of Dean . . .” Annabelle opened the door to reveal Dean, who handed her a cup of coffee. His eyes wandered to the discarded jackets and the Doctor’s new position. “What happened here?” the hunter asked. 

“Time Lord trumps ropes,” Annabelle told him. “I’ve got it under control. It’s not like he can give me cancer by looking at me . . .” She turned to the Doctor, a curious look on her face. “Can you?”

“Don’t think so, no.” He was itching to add “Do you want me to?” but managed to hold his tongue when he noticed the look on Dean’s face. The Doctor switched his attention from Annabelle to her guardian. “Oh, Dean, if you want to know about the jackets . . .” He smirked, and the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “That’s quite a little minx you have there. You’re sure she hasn’t been turning tricks on the side?” His smirk widened, and he leaned back to watch the show.

Dean turned to her. “Annabelle, what did you do?!” He sounded more like a terrified father than the Winchester who would go out and pick up pretty women whenever he was on a case. 

She rolled her eyes. “You know when we’re on cases and you need a beautiful young woman to distract the baddy so you have me get all dressed up and get their attention? I did that without the dressing up and makeup.” 

Dean stared. “You _what_?! How far did it go?!” 

“I said I’ve got it under control. I wouldn’t have actually let him seduce me! Now get out.” 

“Yeah, but the jackets are all that came off, right?” 

“Yes!” she cried, exasperated. “Out!” 

“We’re not done with this conversation—!” Dean started. She slammed the door, locked it before he could continue, and glared at the Doctor. “I’m never gonna live this down.”

His eyes danced with laughter, a cat-swallowed-the-canary grin on his face. He purred, “You started it—and you _liked_ it. I can still smell it on you, you know.”

Her gray eyes narrowed. “It was a distraction and my body’s reaction is not my fault. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself as well.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that. “Superior biology. I was in control the whole time.” Discreetly, he took in her scent. “Can’t say the same for you, now, can we? You still aren’t in full control, are you? All those raging hormones screaming at you, wanting more . . .” Smugness crept into his tone. “And well, I can’t help it if this body is so irresistible, can I?” His eyes held hers, his gaze mesmerizing, and she couldn’t look away. The Master was always better at him than hypnotism, but he wasn’t bad at it either. “Besides,” he added, “how do you know _I_ wasn't distracting _you_?”

“I suppose I don’t. And I’m in control of myself,” she insisted.

The Doctor just leveled her with a piercing stare, knowing it was a lie. He had a keen sense of smell this time round, and he could still smell the pheromones coming off her. Slowly, testing her resolve, he undid one button on his shirt then another, suddenly grateful that he’d decided to wear a T-shirt underneath. “Oh, really?” he asked. “Then check for weapons that you keep on your person.”

Her lips pursed together as she checked for the weapons and didn’t find any. “Where’d you put them?” she demanded. “I know exactly what you took and I want it all back.”

The Doctor flashed a cheeky grin. “They’re in my pockets. You want ’em? Come over here and get ’em.”

Annabelle glared. “Let’s make one thing clear: When I come over there, if you try anything, I will stab you again—and this time it _will_ be fatal.”

“Would I really do that to you?” he asked with an innocent expression on his face. It soon faded. “You’re the one who came on to me, remember.”

She sighed. “Again, it was a distraction,” she insisted, “and I don’t know what you’ll do.” Slowly, she approached and cautiously kneeled next to him, reaching for his pockets and keeping a close eye on his hands.

The Doctor noticed and kept his hands still, but that didn’t stop him from watching her through half-lidded eyes.

“What?” she asked, noticing his lack of movement. “Are you bored?” She retrieved her weapons and sat against the wall next to him.

“For someone who supposedly hates me and wants to torture me,” the Doctor commented, “you’re not doing a very consistent job of it.” He smirked, adding smugly, “Or maybe I was right: You _do_ fancy me.”

Annabelle couldn’t help but laugh. “I like my guests entertained. We are lacking a bit though, aren’t we? Let’s fix that.” She lashed out with one of her knives before he could react, leaving a long gash across his chest. The cold smile returned. “Did Rose know you loved her?” Annabelle taunted the Doctor. “Did you ever tell her?”

His expression darkened, lip curling in a snarl. “I didn’t have to tell her; she knew how I felt. Besides, my meta-crisis took care of that.”

She smiled at the snarl. “Oh but that’ll never make up for it, will it? It’ll never be the same as telling her yourself, making sure she knows. That’s too bad, really. Don’t you wish you’d told her instead of your meta-crisis? Would you tell her if you had the chance?” Annabelle set the blade of the knife lightly on his cheek and slid it down his face, past his neck. She sighed seemingly having found no good place to strike. “Would you mind holding this for me?” Without waiting for an answer, she drove the knife through his free hand, pinning it to the floor. She rose, walked casually to the other side of the room, and took a drink of the coffee Dean had brought her earlier.

A hiss of pain escaped the Doctor before he silenced it. Self-hatred and fury blazed in his eyes. He snapped, “Do you think I didn’t want to; didn’t want to see her kissing someone who looked exactly like me but could never be me, not ever; didn’t want to leave her on that damn beach in that bloody parallel universe for a second time? I did what I thought was best for her.” He shook his head, laughed bitterly. “That younger version of me was an idiot.”

Slowly, she sauntered back toward him. “Oh love just hates us, doesn’t it? It leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. I’ve about had enough, though. I think I’m turning away from love. What about you? What do you think about love, Doctor?” Her voice was as cold as ice.

The Doctor knew she was trying to elicit a rise out of him, knew he wouldn’t reward her with one. So he shrugged, tried to act like the question didn’t bother him. “What do you want me to say? For all I know, my next body won’t even think about her, won’t love her anymore.” That was something he didn’t even want to consider, so he shoved it to the back of his mind. A crooked grin appeared as another thought occurred to him. “You were right not to fully trust me. There’s more than a sliver of ice in my hearts.”

“Yeah I know,” she replied. “Why do you think I’m enjoying this so much?” Annabelle sneered, twisted the knife in his hand before pulling it out. Dark red blood pooled on the concrete floor, and her eyes latched onto the syrupy liquid.

He didn’t give any sign that the wound pained him. Instead, he closed off the nerve receptors in his injured hand. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do it for long, but it would trigger the healing process. “And what about you?” he asked. “Who was your lover before he was taken from you?” If he could take her focus off of him and onto herself, maybe he could have some fun of his own. Mind games were entertaining, but there was just something about terrified, pained, dying screams . . .

“You know who it was and you know what I had to do,” she reminded him shortly.

“Not really, no.”

Annabelle sighed. “Great, we’ve turned this on me,” she muttered. Raising her voice, she explained briefly, “His name was Dylan. He had a sister, Marina. They were hunters and that made it easier to bond. Dylan and I . . . I loved him. I’m glad I told him. In fact, it was the last thing I ever told him. I killed them. Dean says I had to because of the angels and that there was nothing I could’ve done, but I should’ve at least tried.” Her voice was heavy with regret and pain. “I still have nightmares. . . . Do you have nightmares about Rose?”

“Oh yes.” He didn’t elaborate, nor give any sign that he was going to.

“What kind of nightmares? Does she scream at you? Tell you it’s all your fault?”

His lips curved in a wry smile. “No. Sometimes I think I’d actually be grateful if she did; Rassilon knows I’ve deserved it, after what happened with Madame de Pompadour. If anything, most of my nightmares involve Martha—and Rose, in a sense.” He shuddered. “Martha fancied me, but I didn’t pay any attention to her. You can imagine how that went. Anyway, she’s married to Mickey the idiot by now. Or is his name Rickey? I can never remember. Well, there was a Rickey when I first met Mickey, but I didn’t know it then—parallel universes and all.” The Doctor cut himself short, shook his head to clear it. “What do you want from me?”

“I want Sam back and if I can't have him back”—she shrugged—“I’ll wear myself out at some point. I do like the idea of escaping all this, starting new, finding peace. Half the time I forget I’m only fourteen. It feels like it’s been an eternity. But then again, an apocalypse really does sound good and all it would take is one drop of blood. What’s it like being powerful enough to end the world?”

“Sorry, can’t bring the Moose back. I erased him from time and space, but the universe has probably compensated for that already. As for ending worlds . . .” His eyes grew distant, dark with memory, and he licked his lips. “Oh, two almighty civilizations burning because of me. I must have felt like God. How about that? I won.” He narrowed his eyes at her, concentrated on the timelines simmering gold around her. “And the timelines right now are converging on you. Now, let's see, a shift here, a change of thought there . . .”

Panic flooded her. “What are you doing to me?” she cried. “Stop!”

“Altering a fixed point,” he said calmly. Again, his lips curved in an insane grin. “Sorry, but there’s not going to be an apocalypse. Not yet, anyway.”

She tightened her grip on the knife in her hand. Annabelle moved back to him, placed the knife at his throat. “Let me make my own choices,” she hissed. “I was never really going to start the apocalypse. I thought you knew me well enough to know that. It’s over for me though. I can feel it in my bones. This war with the angels and fate ends with death.”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “If you live long enough, you just get tired. Tired of the struggle, of watching everything turn to dust, of losing everyone who ever mattered to you.” His voice hardened. “As for me controlling the timelines? I’m a Time Lord; I have that right.” His brown eyes went cold, dead. “For a long time now I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not. I'm the winner.” There was a strange look in his eyes now, one she couldn’t interpret, and he tilted his head. “Oh by the way, your angel friend, Cass? He’s right outside the door. And he wants a word.”

“I’m already tired, Doctor,” Annabelle said before opening the door for Castiel. “What do you want?” 

“Zoe’s forces are after you. They have gained knowledge of the bunker . . .” The angel trailed off as he took in the room, the state both her and the Doctor were in. “What are you up to?”

“It’s my business; and honestly, Cass, let them find me. I don’t want to run from them anymore.” 

“She has many angels coming as we speak,” Cass warned. “They will tear you apart—and I thought the Doctor was an alliance.” 

“Things change. And honestly? Let them try. Bring it on.”

“Angels?” The Doctor straightened, suddenly alert. He grinned. “I’ve never killed an angel before.”

Annabelle glared at the Time Lord. “And you won’t get to. This is my war. You’re my prisoner.” 

“He may be a valuable asset,” Castiel pointed out. 

“I don’t care. By the way, Cass, do you have that weapon I asked for?” 

“Yes.” The Angel of Thursday handed her a gun and advised, “Use it wisely.” 

“Oh, I will,” she promised. “It works?” 

“Yes,” Cass replied.

“Awesome.” Annabelle grinned, ran her hand over the gun. “How surprised do you think they’ll be?” 

“The weapon was kept secret. They should be very surprised.” 

“Even better.”

“Mmm. What weapon would this be, exactly?” the Doctor broke in. If it was a weapon from the Time War . . .

“It was my idea,” Annabelle said, showing him the gun. “How many rounds, Cass?” she asked the angel.

“Enough for Zoe and two others,” was the reply.

“Alright. Good. How many does she have after me?”

“I cannot give you an exact number but there are many. More than you can fight off.”

“You underestimate me, too,” she told him bitterly. “I really don’t think they will hurt me. After all, I’m the key to their war.”

While Annabelle and Cass were talking, the Doctor recalled a trick he'd learned from Houdini and used it to slip free of the cuff around his wrist without either her or Cass noticing. He pointed out, “Just because they don’t want you dead does not mean they’ll let you go unscathed. If they can break you, turn you, they probably will.”

“I'm a tough girl,” she reminded him. “I can handle myself. Besides they can't break something that's already broken.”

“So?” he retorted. “That’ll just make it easier.” He started to climb to his feet.

She shot him a stern look and ordered, “Sit. I don’t need a Time Lord and angels attacking me.” Annabelle turned, found an angel she’d never seen standing where Cass had been, and smiled wickedly. “Let the games begin.” 

She took aim and fired. The bullet hit the angel right between the eyes. A surprised look was frozen on his face as he fell. He was dead before he even hit the floor. 

Annabelle looked satisfied. “I think I’ve found my new favorite weapon,” she commented, putting it away to save the remaining two bullets.

She had just drawn her angel blade when five angels appeared around her. Without even thinking, she sprang into action, swiftly taking out three. 

One of the remaining two angels caught her arm, held a blade to the small of her back.

A laugh spilled from her throat. “You aren’t even trying. Really? Give me a challenge.” She grabbed the angel’s arm, turned around, and stabbed him. Annabelle shot a challenging look at the final angel and dared, “Give me your worst.”

Before either Annabelle or the angel could move, the Doctor pick-pocketed another angel blade from her and stabbed the last angel in the chest, grim satisfaction on his face—no, it wasn’t that; it almost looked as if he was relishing taking another life.

Annabelle scowled at the Time Lord. “I told you this is my war. Screw off.”

Before they had the chance to bicker, more angels appeared and she was quickly busy fighting them off. The angels took no interest in the Doctor whatsoever—which slightly insulted him—but he made no move to help this time. Annabelle could clearly handle herself—until one of the angels came close enough to touch her. Although she fought to stay conscious, she could feel her knees buckling, all of her strength leaving her from the wounds she’d sustained. 

After Annabelle finally gave in and passed out, one of the angel’s eyes landed on the Doctor. “Get that one, too,” the angel ordered. “Zoe may have some questions for him too.”

Two of the angels gripped the Doctor by the arms. He didn’t struggle, merely glared at his captors.

The lead angel sneered when his soldiers were a little rough the Doctor. “Careful now. It looks as if the girl has been taking out some frustration on this one. He may be helpful.” His tone sharpened as he addressed the Time Lord. “Who are you and what’s the girl’s problem with you?”

_Might as well have some fun with this._ “My name is Death, and the end is here,” he said in a dark, menacing tone. He amended, “Actually, not really. I’m the Doctor. As for what her problem is with me, well, that’s between her and me. Now, who are you?”

“I am Zoe’s second in command,” the lead angel informed him. “She did not mention anyone with the girl. Then again—” He walked over to Annabelle, who was being held up by two other angels, and lifted her chin. Annabelle’s eyes fluttered open. She bit back a groan, tried to bite the angel. “—the girl is unpredictable. Key or not, she would be less trouble dead. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“You’ve no choice but to keep me alive so keep talking,” Annabelle managed to say through the pain. She winced as the angel struck her across the face. 

“I was told I may do as I like with you as long as you are alive when we get back to heaven.” 

She spat in his face. “Do as you wish. See if it changes anything.”

The Doctor tilted his head, studying the angel. “Yes, well, your leader didn’t mention anyone with the girl because you lot didn’t even know I exist. And frankly, you're never going to meet anyone else like me.”

“I’m sure I could if I wanted to,” the second-in-command said dismissively. “And you, Ms. Hareven—” 

“Winchester! It’s Winchester!” she interrupted. “And you won’t find anyone like him. No one is as terrifying as that man. That’s why he’s here.” 

“Hasn’t Zoe told you that name is a disgrace to who you are? My dear, I’ve never heard you admit fear.” 

“I’m not the one afraid of him, and I carry the name Winchester with honor,” Annabelle retorted. “I’m not who you want me to be. Didn’t I tell Zoe that?” 

“Never mind that,” the angel said. “You really should learn to control your mouth.” He kicked her in the stomach, knocking the breath out of her. As she tried to catch her breath, she threw death glares at the angel and twisted to break free of the other angels’ grasps.

“What good is beating her to death going to do?” the Doctor asked the head angel. “You need her alive, not dead. Besides, that’s not the most efficient way to get her talking. Haven’t you figured that out by now? Or do you angels not learn from your failures?”

“I need her alive when I get to heaven, not now. I can heal her and bring her back with a touch. Would you like a demonstration?” 

Annabelle paled. “You wouldn't!” 

“I would.”

The Doctor flashed the angel a tight, dangerous grin. “I have a better idea: Take me to your leader.”

The angel dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “You haven’t shown anything useful. Zoe would not take an interest in you.”

“Don’t provoke him. He’ll erase you from space and time.” Annabelle forced herself to make her tone sarcastic even though she really meant it. 

“Shut up, girl,” the angel growled at her. “Have you not learned your lesson?” 

“I’ll never learn my lesson. Go ahead. Shut me up. Try it. I dare you.”

The angel’s blade appeared in his hand, and he stabbed her. It was only a flesh wound, but it still hurt, still made her groan. She quickly turned the groan to a laugh, forced the pain away. 

“You’re really gonna regret that,” she informed the angel through gritted teeth. “I swear, as soon as your little body guards let go of me I will tear you to shreds!” 

“Still not getting the point, are we?” The angel kicked her hard a few more times. She kept her head down to hide the pain; every muscle in her body was tense, her fists clenched. “Stop. Now,” she said through gritted teeth, voice somehow steady.

The Doctor tensed, his eyes black. Moving quickly, he shook off his captors and was between Annabelle and the angel in seconds, shoving the angel back from her and up against the wall. There was more than just the Oncoming Storm in his glare now, so much more. The Doctor leveled his stolen blade at the angel’s throat, applied slight pressure. “You might want to listen to her this time,” he advised in a low voice. “What I said earlier? I meant it. I’m a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey, and I’m the man who’s going to end your lives and those of all six billion angels in both heaven and Earth. You got a problem with that?” He applied more pressure, the blade cutting into the skin. A trickle of blood flowed from the cut, and his eyes tracked it with an almost hungry expression. “Oh, and Annabelle? She’s _mine_ ,” he growled.

The other angels dropped Annabelle and backed away from her. She moved with some difficulty to her jacket, molded it into a ball, and pressed it against the stab wound.

The angel the Doctor had swallowed hard. “N-no, sir,” he stammered, face pale. The Doctor wasn’t even sure if angels could sweat, but it seemed like this one was. “No problem with that, and take the girl. She was never going to cooperate anyway.”

Annabelle stared, unable to believe what she’d just heard. More than that, she was terrified of the Doctor, more so than she’d ever been when facing supernatural creatures.

She blinked, took a step back from the Time Lord.

In that one millisecond, the angels had vanished. 

The Doctor pocketed the angel blade, and she found her breathing had stopped as he slowly turned to face her.

What was he going to do to her now?


	4. Chapter 4

“I can help you with that, if you want,” he said, noticing she was wounded. 

Even though he said the words, he made no effort to move closer.

“No.” Her voice was quiet, not at all the way it had been earlier. “I can take care of myself. It’s not that bad.” She pulled herself up, stumbled over to the door. Bracing herself against the wall as she opened it, she paused. “I do want you to come with me though. There will be more and they’ll be more powerful. I can’t exactly defend myself and give myself medical attention at the same time.”

“Okay.” The Doctor followed her out the door. “Can I have my psychic paper and screwdrivers back? Or is that too much to ask at the moment?”

“You have an angel blade. That’s all you need.” Annabelle led him slowly back to the main room, gathered what she needed, and began cleaning out the stab wound. She glanced up at him, curious but wary. “Why did you defend me? Why did they just leave?”

“You’re mine.” He said it like it was obvious, which put her even more on edge. “Besides, I backed you up and said I would . . . well . . . Even angels have nightmares—or they will now. Then there’s also the fact that they don’t even know what to do with me, and that must have their feathers ruffled.”

“True,” she agreed. Then what he’d said hit her, and she frowned slightly. “Yours? I’m property now?” She grimaced as she began to stitch her wound, aware of his eyes on her.

“What, is Cass not able to heal that for you?” She couldn’t tell if his tone was mocking or curious—it was probably better that way, anyway. But then, it was always hard to judge his moods--even with the way he was now.

She growled in frustration as she continued working. If she called Cass in for every cut she ever received, she might as well just keep him at her side. Besides she was an independent young woman; she could handle this. “I don’t rely on that damn angel for everything, you know. I’m capable of bouncing back from this; therefore, I don’t need Castiel. I don’t want to get him involved anyway. Now, am I property?”

He avoided looking at her so she wouldn’t see the tiny smile, the glint in his eye. “Depends on how you look at it.” His tone suddenly turned irritable: “If I wanted the third degree, I would have asked for it. It got them off your back, didn't it?”

“Yes, but he wasn’t lying when he said he could heal me with a touch. He would’ve if you’d just let me handle things on my own.” Her own temper flared. “You act like I'm helpless. I have thought these things through. Eventually he would’ve taken me straight to Zoe and then it would’ve been a matter of getting close enough to shoot her. Even if they had killed me . . . it wouldn’t exactly have been devastating and I would’ve been back full force within minutes.” She finished up, covered the wound, took off her now-ruined T-shirt, and slipped on a button-up plaid shirt, wishing she had time to lie back for a while. Annabelle knew it would be a matter of minutes before every force that ever wanted her dead would be here.

“Sorry, but I don’t think the Bad Wolf included you in that immortality stint.” The Doctor considered it for a couple seconds then shook his head. “Nope, definitely not. You may be the Key, but you’re not immortal. Besides, I can stand being around you. Being around Sam, Dean, and Jack makes me feel like I’ve got an itch I can’t scratch. Can’t help it; it’s in my guts. They’re wrong. Besides, those angels have probably gotten Zoe’s attention by now.”

“You’re not _listening_ ,” Annabelle said slowly, as if he was a child. “Angels can bring people back from the dead. I have been brought back from the dead before thanks to Cass.”

The Doctor growled low in his throat. “That shouldn’t even be possible. What’s dead should stay dead. Everything has its time, and everything dies.”

“You don't think I’d rather be in heaven with my family than here?” she snapped. “It was Dean's great idea—and if he hasn't the angels would've, and you would've had an apocalypse on your hands.”

He just shrugged. “Do you really think I’ve never encountered an apocalypse before? I’ve lost count how many I've prevented—and not just on this planet. All that, and what’s my reward?” A grim smile crossed his face. “Nothing, of course, because the universe doesn’t even care about me, you, or any of those thousands of species out there.”

“As if I didn’t know the universe hates me. Thanks for the confirmation.”

A new voice came from behind them—male, British. “Is Princess here complaining about her life again? You know I can fix that with one kiss.” 

Annabelle whirled around to see Crowley. “And now we’ve got the King of Hell here. I’m not making any deals, Crowley,” she warned.

The Doctor slowly turned around, smiled slightly when he spotted the King of Hell. “Relax, Annabelle. I don’t think he’s here to see you.”

“Sorry, I assume when an angel or demon shows up they’re here for me. I'm only heaven and hell’s most wanted,” she said sarcastically. 

“Stop bickering, ladies,” Crowley interrupted. “I’m here for both of you. Honestly, Princess, I thought you would’ve run by now.” 

“What do you want, Crowley?” she asked, annoyed.

“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I heard about angel deaths and a couple angels running back to their master like scared puppies. I couldn’t ignore that claim, now could I?”

“Probably not,” the Doctor admitted. “As for the angels running scared back to Mummy, that was cos of me.” He waved a hand at Crowley. “Hello, I’m the Doctor.”

“Hello. Doctor. . .?”

“It’s just ‘the Doctor.’”

“Ah, interesting.” 

“Yeah,” Annabelle jumped in tersely. “Now that you two are acquainted, can we talk about what’s going on here today before we’re attacked again?” 

“Yes,” said Crowley. “I have two questions. One: How did you”—this was directed at the Doctor—“make angels run? Two: How did you”—his gaze switched to Annabelle—“kill an angel with a bullet?” 

“I’ve got a new weapon,” Annabelle told him.

The Doctor shrugged. “I’m a Time Lord—the last Time Lord. There’s a reason for that. And, well, I may or may not have promised to murder every single angel in heaven and on this planet. It’s nothing.”

Annabelle stared at him. “‘It’s nothing’?!” she shrieked. “You are insane if you think that’s true!”

“I thought you would have figured out by now that I am a madman with a box,” he shot back.

“Madman in a box?” Crowley asked.

“He has a box that he rides around in,” Annabelle explained briefly before returning her attention to the Time Lord. “Doctor, don’t tell the King here anything else about this box. He doesn’t need to find it.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling him, thanks,” he said irritably, shooting her a look that clearly said he thought she was an idiot for even _suggesting_ that he would give away information about his beloved TARDIS.

“Just making sure.” 

“Aw, I wanna know about the box!” Crowley whined. 

“Too bad,” Annabelle said curtly. “Anything else?” 

“Yes. I’d like to form an alliance with you two.” 

“We’ve been through this. _No_.”

“Besides,” the Doctor added, “why in the name of Rassilon would I want to make a deal with a demon?” There was a sneer in his voice, in his eyes, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Crowley countered. “Besides, I can hide the two of you from the angels.” 

“No need for you to,” Annabelle told the demon. “This will be the end of the war. It’s been going on for far too long anyway.”

The Doctor added, “And I can hide on my own without help, ta. ’Sides, they’re mostly restricted to heaven, Earth, and Purgatory. I’m not.”

“We don’t need help, Crowley. I suggest you leave before more angels show up. Wouldn’t it be a tragedy if you were caught in the crossfire?” There was an edge in Annabelle’s voice that suggested it was a threat, not a question. 

Crowley took the hint. “Yes, quite a tragedy. I must be off then. It was nice to see you again, Princess. Pleasure to meet you, Doctor.”

“Can't say it's the same for me,” the Doctor said. “And Crowley, if you try anything. . . . I’m a no-second-chances sort of man. You don’t want to hear what’s happened to those who have crossed me.” His voice was menacing, with more than a hint of a threat. Storm clouds gathered in his brown eyes as he stared down the shorter man.

Crowley, looking almost nervous, disappeared. 

“Now you’ve scared heaven and hell away,” Annabelle commented.

“Not quite. Heaven doesn’t get scared,” a new voice said. 

Annabelle didn’t even bother to turn to the new visitor: She knew that voice all too well, and she didn’t want to let the angel see the smug smile that played momentarily on her lips. “What took you so long?” the teen asked. “I've been waiting.” 

“I had some business to attend to, my dear. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Blimey, do all of you angels have a flair for theatre? Cos I’m starting to think you would have done well as the Angel of Drama.”

“I’m the assistant of Metatron the scribe of God, thank you very much,” the female voice said snippily. “And you must be the one who startled my angels.”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’. “And I wouldn’t say ‘startled’, more like ‘running scared back to mum.’” The Doctor turned around, faced the angel.

Annabelle smiled mischievously, making sure Zoe saw it. “Yeah, he does have a way better description of what happened.” 

“And who are you to talk?” the angel retorted. “You did not make it out of the fight unscathed according to my forces.” 

“At least I got out of the fight with my pride and dignity intact,” Annabelle shot back. 

“Don’t pull that with me, dear. You know what I want and you know what happens if I don’t get it.”

“Yeah, and you’re not gonna get it. So what’s it gonna be? A fast death? A slow death? A surprise?”

A slow grin spread over the Doctor’s face as he studied the female angel, and the storm clouds in his eyes were ready to break. “Or maybe you won’t even get to decide.”

“Oh I have plans for her, Doctor,” Zoe said. “That is your name, correct?”

“Of a sorts.” He feigned a casual air. “What exactly did your angels say when they reported back to you?”

Zoe replied stiffly, “A man had threatened all angels when they had disciplined Annabelle.”

“Little more than that,” Annabelle told her. “See, he’s claimed me. I’m his.” 

The angel scoffed. “That means nothing.”

The Doctor looked almost insulted. “Your angels need to work on their reporting skills. There’s a lot more to it than that.” His expression darkened. “I’m the last of the Time Lords. You might want to think on why, and you won’t have another chance if you guess wrong.”

Zoe tilted her head as if she were listening to something. Annabelle muttered, “Cheater. She’s listening to her angels. They’re giving her the answer.” 

“No they aren’t,” Zoe said. “They know nothing of why this man is the last of his kind.” She sounded puzzled, almost disappointed.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. “I killed all of them. The oldest race in the universe reduced to a myth.” The storm that had been gathering in the Doctor’s eyes broke. “I meant what I said, and I don’t go back on my word. That was your only warning. If you come after her again . . . Well, I’ll leave that to your imagination, such as it is.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Annabelle protested quickly. “This is my fight! Don't I get a say in what happens?”

“No,” the Doctor said coldly, in a voice that said the decision was final.

“That’s not fair! I’d rather let her kill me!” 

“Are you sure about that, dear?” Zoe asked her. 

“Yes! I’m capable of defending myself! I’m not a freaking toddler!”

The Doctor’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “If you’re so sure, then give it a go.”

Annabelle pulled the gun, and Zoe laughed at her in a way that reminded the Doctor of the Editor on Satellite Five. The angel said, “We knew you weren’t the brightest, dear, but that’s just stupid.” 

Annabelle fired a shot and hit Zoe in the knee. The angel fell to the ground, a pained grimace on her face. 

“How stupid is it now?” Annabelle taunted her. 

The patience in Zoe's voice was gone now as she cried, “What have you done?! That’s not possible!” 

“Actually, it is,” Annabelle replied. “See, Cass just melted down an angel blade for me and made some bullets out of it. What do you know—I actually managed to surprise you! What do you say we go execution style for your death? Seems about right don’t you think, Doctor?”

He shook his head. “No, too quick.” There was an unidentifiable gleam in his eyes. “I have a better idea.”

“I’ve got one bullet left. What are you thinking?”

He shot her an irritated look but didn't say anything. Instead, the Doctor focused on the flow of Time around them, around the angel. It would be so easy to do what he did to Sam, but that wasn't enough for him—nor, he suspected, for Annabelle. “What’s the deadliest substance for angels?” he asked suddenly.

“There’s holy oil and angel blades,” the teenage girl told him. “Angel blades are the only weapons that can kill them. If you light holy oil on fire and they touch it, they die.” 

He considered it for a couple seconds. “And what are angel blades made of?”

“No idea,” Annabelle said. “They just work.”

He made a slight humming noise, as if he was thinking. Then he asked, “Any idea where to find a large supply of holy oil?”

“We’ve got a bunch here somewhere,” Annabelle said after a moment. 

“What are you going to do to me?” Zoe asked sharply.

The Doctor tilted his head, smirked slightly. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you? But just in case you try and wander off. . .” He pulled a couple of alien handcuffs from his pockets, slipped one on her wrist and the other on his. “Move more than ten feet away from me, and it’ll give you a nasty shock you won’t be anxious to repeat. About, say, fifteen thousand volts of electricity.”

Both Annabelle and Zoe raised an eyebrow. Annabelle had a mischievous look on her face and stayed quiet, but Zoe spoke up for herself: “And how exactly do you—?” Annabelle quickly covered Zoe's mouth, but the angel bit her. Annabelle drew her hand back, scowling. Zoe shot the teen a warning glare and repeated, “How exactly do you expect me to walk? The girl demobilized me.”

“Oh, for Rassilon's sake!” the Doctor cried, exasperated. He rolled his eyes. “She shot you in _one_ knee. I _think_ you can manage to walk with the other leg. Besides, Annabelle can help you.”

“Why do I have to babysit the angel?” Annabelle managed to keep the whiny tone out of her voice, but only just. 

“It is not babysitting,” Zoe said. “I am your superior.” 

“In your dreams!” Annabelle scoffed. “I'm my own boss. I don’t take orders unless I want to.” She turned to the Doctor. “Can’t we just let her get shocked? She’ll survive it—probably won’t even feel it.”

“Probably, but I need her. You can find your supply of oil, bring it back here. You”—he shifted his gaze to Zoe—“are going to take me to my ship. Just because you can't walk doesn't mean you can't fly. She'll know—and I’ll know—if you're doing anything to her, and she will fight you. Then I’m taking my ship back here. As for what happens. . .” His lips twitched. “Well, like I said earlier, use your imagination.”

Annabelle flashed a satisfied smile before leaving to get the holy oil. Zoe looked up at the Doctor, trying to look disinterested. “Where is this ship of yours so I may take you there?” she asked him.

He didn’t say a word, just sent her a telepathic image of the TARDIS’s location. The next thing he knew, both of them were in the TARDIS. Zoe looked around, a little intimidated by the technology. Yes, he thought sarcastically, it’s bigger on the inside. Who would’ve thought? The Doctor set to work at the controls, and seconds later they materialized in the bunker. He opened the doors with a snap of his fingers, allowing Annabelle to come inside, and then he disappeared into the depths of his ship, returned minutes later with some heavy chains.

Annabelle moved ten one-gallon cartons of holy water into the TARDIS and eyed the chains with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

The Doctor noticed her look. “These are chains forged from the heart of a dwarf star. I still had some left from when I used them on Father of Mine,” he explained. “Figured we could soak 'em in holy oil, and then, well”—he flashed a smirk, a malicious glint in his eyes—“chuck her out near an exploding star and suspend her in time. Forever.”

“What?!” Zoe shrieked.

Annabelle’s own dark smile returned. “Sounds fun.” She taunted Zoe, “What? Are you scared? Is it finally my turn to watch _you_ suffer? How does it feel to have no escape? To be constantly afraid? Don't worry. You’ll get used to being afraid. It’ll become your default emotion. What you do from there is your choice. You can run like a scared child or figure a way to fight—and if you fight, that last bullet that I have will go straight into your head.” The dark tone Annabelle used scared Zoe more, and the angel tried to cower back a little but found herself frozen in fear.

The Doctor’s smirk widened as he noticed the angel’s growing sense of terror. He handed the chains to Annabelle, who took one of the cartons and started pouring its contents over the chains. It was not long before each link was soaked, and he approached the angel with the chains in his hands. Before she could protest, he wrapped them around her. Then he went to the controls, took them into the Vortex and into space, set them in orbit around a dying star.

Annabelle grinned at her enemy. It felt amazing to finally have Zoe under her control, seeing the angel be the one injured and bound instead of herself. That feeling put her on a bit of an energy high, made her forget her injuries and the fact that she may be a prisoner herself to a much darker force—one she knew she couldn’t beat or run away from.

The Doctor slipped the bracelets off his and Zoe’s wrists, motioned for Annabelle to come back to him, away from the door. When the girl was back behind the controls, he snapped open the doors, tilted his ship so Zoe fell back. Since she’d been standing on the edge, she tumbled out easily. Before she could be incinerated by the sun, he activated a Time Lock, suspended the angel in time. There was an unreadable, unforgiving look on his face, in his eyes—and, not for the first time, Annabelle was terrified of him. Then he closed the door, turned away and pulled down on the lever on the console as he walked slowly around it.

“That’s it? She’s gone forever? Just like that?” Annabelle almost sounded shocked.

“Yep.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her except for that one word.

A thought suddenly occurred to her, and when she voiced it, it came out small, quiet: “But there’s still more angels. . . . It’s not over yet.”

“With their leader dead, how many of them do you think are going to keep searching for you?”

“Her second in command will take over, and she said something about being another angel's assistant. Metatron. He may be in charge of all of them. It doesn’t matter if she’s dead. They all still want me. They won’t stop. Or maybe they will after what you did to Zoe. Maybe they'll take it as a warning and back off.”

“They better. Because I’m not in the mood for a little genocide at the moment.” He finally looked at her, eyes hard. “I don’t appreciate being used, Annabelle,” he said darkly.

She returned the hard look. “I never asked for you to do anything. In fact, I asked you to let me handle it myself. _You_ took matters into your own hands.”

His eyes flashed fire. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d taken care of it in the first place!”

“You’re gonna blame me? Excuse me for fighting as hard as I could. Would you rather I have surrendered? You know where that would’ve gotten us? Nowhere! I distinctly remember telling you to screw off and I never asked you to intervene with what they were doing to me. I’ve had worse, been tortured longer, and I can handle myself. Don’t even try to turn it on me. I could have ended it on my own if you wouldn’t treat me like a freaking child! I’m not your delicate little flower!” She regretted the last sentence as soon as it left her mouth but didn’t let on that she wished she could take it back. Besides, he couldn’t possibly think she actually used him when he was the one that took over a fight she could’ve handled. . . . Right?

Anger flared in his eyes. “Rose wasn’t delicate. What do you think I did? Wrapped her in cotton wool? Told her, ‘Here, I could give you the universe but I’m not going to in case you get hurt’? ‘There’s all this stuff out there, all these planets, all these wonders, but I want you to say at home and work in a shop’?” The Doctor spun around, hands raking through his hair. “And whether you like it or not, you still _are_ a child. You may act like this tough badass hunter who knows what she’s doing, but underneath that is a scared little girl fighting to get out—and you know it.” His lip curled. “You might not have specifically stated you wanted me involved, but it was always there—implied, hanging around in your subconscious. Don’t even bother trying to deny it.”

“ I never wanted you involved! I never wanted anyone else involved! It’s my load to bear! Maybe I did think about it at one point, but you know what stopped me from asking for help? I wanted to protect you! All of this, everything I’ve done, it’s just a stupid attempt to keep everyone safe! I was afraid of losing you! Afraid of what they’d do if they found out how much power you hold! It’s unfair for you to assume I would use you like they would! I may be a kid, but I don’t need your protection. I don’t need anyone’s protection. It’s _my job_ to provide protection and that’s exactly what I intend to do!”

Fury rolled off him in waves. “I told you I didn’t need anyone, much less someone to protect me.” He jabbed in the coordinates for the bunker. “Do you really think I haven’t come across people who’ve tried to steal my TARDIS, to use me, before? I’ve had so many different faces, so many personalities, but we’ve all dealt with our enemies in the same way. My own people even tried to kill me when they found me guilty for breaking our non-interference policy.” He smiled, faintly. “Mmm. Maybe that’s why I was the only one who could end the Time War. Not that it matters.”

“If you don’t need anyone then you can just drop me off at the bunker and leave.” Though she was turned away from him, she wasn’t quite able to hide the pain in her voice. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand just how much you used to mean to me, or how much it hurt me to have that ripped away—and then on top of that you stick around like you’re rubbing it in my face how much you’ve changed and just how much I can’t trust you or anyone for that matter.” 

“Except I haven’t changed, not really.” He shrugged. “Take away all my scruples and morals, and there’s still . . . me.” He pulled the lever that sent them back into the Time Vortex. A few minutes later, they finished materializing inside the bunker. “Here you are. End of the line.”

“Thank you. Goodbye.” She stepped out of the TARDIS and was met by Dean. The hunter asked, “Where were you?! What happened?” 

“He helped me take care of Zoe. She’s dead. It’s just you and me now. We can leave. Start new somewhere else,” Annabelle replied flatly. 

“Is that what you want to do?” 

“Yes. I want to go far from here.”

The Doctor was standing in the open doorway of his ship, watching them. He didn’t say anything, but Annabelle could feel the hairs prickling on the back of her neck. She soon caught Dean looking over her shoulder and looked back at the Doctor. “What are you waiting for?” she asked sharply.

“Well?” the Doctor said, as if expecting a certain response. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

I already did,” Annabelle told him, “and if you think you need more thanks, you’re not getting it.”

“All right, then.” The Doctor shrugged, started to close the TARDIS door. Before he could completely shut it, he heard the familiar sound of a teleport. In the next second, Captain Jack Harkness was standing in front of the TARDIS.

The Doctor stared in disbelief. _“What?!”_

Jack smiled when he saw him. “Hi, Doc,” the former Time Agent said. 

“Don’t even start. And don’t call me that. I’m the Doctor, and you’re sure as hell not Bugs Bunny.”

Annabelle cleared her throat as she and Dean aimed their weapons at Jack. “Who exactly are you and why are you here?”

Jack turned, smiled at her and Dean. “I’m Captain Jack Harkness.” 

“Stop it!” the Doctor snapped.

“I was just saying hello!” Jack protested.

“You can have a good flirt with Dean later. But really, Jack, what are you doing here?” 

“My Torchwood team had been picking up some really strange signals coming from around here. Some of ’em seemed to match the TARDIS, so—” 

“You decided to investigate, see if you could meet up with me again.” The Doctor gave him a thin smile. “You must really like me, Jack.”

Annabelle reluctantly put her weapon away, Dean following her lead. She growled at the Time Lord, “Oh, I don’t know. With your behavior lately, he might just decide otherwise.”

Jack turned to her, curious. “What do you mean?” 

“Forget it,” the Doctor cut in sharply. “You found me, so why don’t you go back to”—he paused, the word leaving a sour taste in his mouth—“Torchwood?” 

Jack swung back to him, shook his head. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily, Doctor. I’m here, so you might as well deal with it.” The Immortal turned back to Annabelle and Dean. “What’s going on here?”

“I left him for a while, came back, and found myself with a manipulative asshole who decided to remove one of my adoptive guardians from time and space.” Dean winced a little at the mention of Sam but said nothing.

Jack stepped away from the Doctor, pulled a revolver out of his dark-blue WWII-era coat.

A smile flickered on the Time Lord’s lips. “Now _that_ looks like Torchwood.” 

“You’re not the Doctor. He wouldn’t have—” 

“Wouldn’t have what, Jack? Sorry to disappoint you, but I really _am_ the Doctor. I’m not a Zygon or a clone or a biological meta-crisis.” 

Jack didn’t lower the gun. “What the hell happened to you?”

Annabelle eyed the gun, wondered how this new man would react if she tried to disarm him. Despite any doubts she had, she lashed out quickly, grabbed the gun, twisted it out of Jack’s hands and held it out of his reach. She told him, “You can have the gun back when I’m sure you won’t try and shoot anyone. Sadly, this really is the Doctor. As for what happened to him, to quote the man himself, he ‘stopped acting.’”

Jack spun around to face her, jaw set. “And who are you?” There was nothing flirtatious about his manner now; he was all business.

“Annabelle Winchester, hunter and his now former companion. I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Captain Jack Harkness. I hear you can’t die. Bad Wolf keeps bringing you back or something like that.”

“Something like that.” Jack focused his attention on Dean, his eyes lighting up. “And who are _you_?” 

“Jaaack,” the Doctor warned. 

“What?” 

The Doctor started to say something, then thought better of it and shook his head. “Forget it. You’ll probably end up shagging him anyway.”

“W-what?!” Dean stuttered in shock. “There will be no shagging!” 

“Oh my God, Dean, relax,” Annabelle said, rolling her eyes. Then she introduced him to Jack: “His name is Dean Winchester—also a hunter and my adoptive guardian. Leave him alone.” She stood protectively beside Dean, half in front of him.

Jack’s eyes widened innocently. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re seeing another guy, huh?” He thought about it for a second. “We could make it a threesome.” 

“Jack! Stop it!” the Doctor growled. 

“You’re no fun.” 

The Time Lord grinned at him. “You know you love it.”

Annabelle shot Jack a warning glare. Dean noticed her tensing muscles and placed a hand on her shoulder, clearly telling her to back down, that it was okay, but she held her position.

“Dude, I’m straight,” Dean told Jack, but his mouth curved in a half-smile.

“We’ll see.” Jack flashed the hunter a charming smile. Behind him, the Doctor’s eyes danced with laughter. The Time Lord leaned casually against his ship, an amused smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’m warning you now, Dean, he’s very good,” the Doctor said. “You’ll probably last, ooo, ten minutes? No, not even.”

Annabelle slashed her hands through the air in a “stop everything” gesture. “No, stop. Everyone stop. If any two people in this room were to have a relationship, it would be strictly a business relationship, understood?”

Jack only just managed not to frown. It didn’t help that the Doctor was now shaking with silent laughter. “Shut up, Doctor.” 

“What? I didn’t say anything.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Like I can’t hear you silently laughing your head off over there.” 

“Oi! I’m not the one who feels like he has to shag anything he’s attracted to that has a pulse.” 

“No, just if they’re blonde and human, right?” Jack shot back.

He’d struck a nerve and wished he could take back the words as the Doctor stopped laughing and glared at him with ancient, cold, unforgiving eyes.

“And the tension’s back,” Annabelle muttered. Raising her voice, she said, “All right, boys, settle down. Don’t start any fights.” She gave Jack his gun back after taking the bullets. 

“She’s right,” Dean agreed. “No need for any more fighting today.”

“Can I have my sonic and laser screwdrivers back, at least?” the Doctor asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

Jack looked at him sharply. “Since when do you have a laser screwdriver?” 

“Since I took it from the Master’s body. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” 

Jack’s jaw clenched. “You actually _kept_ something belonging to _that_ bastard? After everything he did during the year that never was?”

Annabelle glanced between the two of them, handed the Doctor the sonic screwdriver. She pulled out the laser screwdriver but didn’t offer it to either of them. She looked to Jack. “What exactly is this, and should I give it to the Doctor or not?”

“You shouldn’t. It can kill, age a person if the user has their genetic pattern, and— Basically, it’s the opposite of his sonic.” 

The Doctor smiled in a way that reminded Jack vividly of the Master. “’Course it is. Who’d have sonic?”

Annabelle pocketed the laser screwdriver again. “Right, um, I’m keeping that one. I think I’ll figure out how to destroy it later.” 

“Are you sure that’s smart?” Dean asked sharply. 

“I have a feeling it’s smarter than handing it over to the Doctor. . . .”

“No kidding,” Jack said. 

The Doctor turned his head and glared at Jack, who gave him a measuring look back.

Annabelle, trying to break the tension, cleared her throat. “Jack, can I speak with you alone?”

“Yeah, sure.” He followed her off to the side. "What is it?"

She glanced around, made sure no one was following. “Keep going.” She kept walking deeper into the bunker to make sure no one would eavesdrop on them. The deeper they went, the more relaxed Annabelle felt. Fatigue was creeping into her bones and, finally starting to feel the pain from her injuries, she stumbled and caught herself on Jack. Annabelle quickly straightened, muttered an apology, and braced herself against the wall. “This is far enough. Do you think you can fix the Doctor?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. The Doctor . . .” Jack shook his head. “He does what he wants, and usually no one can change his mind. The only person I’ve known who was able to actually help him . . . She’s gone. I might be able to, Annabelle, but honestly . . . I just don't know. And even if I take him back to Torchwood . . . Our base is right on top of a rift in time and space. Him being the genius he is, he'll probably be able to use it against us—and the first thing you learn about being in Torchwood is ‘Do not mess with the rift.’ Besides, there’s only three of us left—three of five. And the Cardiff branch—my branch—is the only one left.”

Defeat flickered over her features, but she hid it quickly and put on her calm-and-in-control act again. “Don’t take him there then, and it’s probably best you leave. I’ll figure something out before he hurts anyone else.”

“Just try not to kill him. Even when he’s like this . . . the universe is better off with him alive.” So saying, Jack flipped open his vortex manipulator and teleported back to the Hub.

Annabelle stood there a moment, trying to think of anything to do to make things better. Then she finally went back, ordering, “Doctor, get in your TARDIS. We’re finding your girlfriend.”

He blinked, startled. “What?”

“TARDIS. Now. You and I will find your Rose.” She slipped into the TARDIS without waiting for him. Then she stuck her head out the door, glared at him. “Are you coming willingly or do I have to hold a gun to your head?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. An excited grin tugging at his lips, he bounded up the ramp and to the console.

“Dean, get in here too. I suppose we need some adult supervision,” Annabelle told her guardian. 

Dean entered apprehensively. “You’re sure?” 

“Yes.” She closed the door behind Dean. “Take it away, Doctor.”

“Yes, right. This is the TARDIS—T-A-R-D-I-S. Stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space, and yes, it’s—”

“—bigger on the inside . . .” Dean finished in an awed voice, the Doctor mouthing the words along with him.

“No, really? Thanks for the observation, Sherlock.” Annabelle’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” the Doctor added in a voice slightly less sarcastic than Annabelle’s. “And yeah, thanks for the observation, Watson and Sherlock.” He was busy at the console, hands everywhere and feet moving him around at ridiculous speeds. If it was possible to get to the alternate universe, he’d make sure they materialize in parallel London. And if he _did_ have to end up taking care of his meta-crisis . . . So be it.

Annabelle looked fairly satisfied that he was jumping around again. She warned the Winchester, “Hold on, Dean. It's a wild ride.” 

Dean paled a little: He hated flights. “Great . . .”

“Oh, relax,” the Doctor said. “It’s not that bad. Besides, sailors have kept their feet through worse than this.”

“You’ll be fine, Dean, I promise,” Annabelle assured him. 

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get it over with . . .”

The Doctor grinned, and the blue light from the time rotor cast his angular face in shadow. “In that case, hang on. It’s gonna be a bit of a bumpy ride.”

Annabelle and Dean gripped the coral struts tightly, though Annabelle couldn’t hold back a grin as she watched Dean struggle to remain calm. She elbowed him playfully. “Deep breath, Dean. It’s just like a turbulent flight with no seatbelts.” 

“Not helping, Annabelle.” 

“Aw, come on! What’s your thing with flying anyway? Imagine we’re in the Impala on a _really_ bumpy road.” 

Dean took a breath, closed his eyes. 

“Better?” Annabelle asked. 

“Not at all,” he replied.

Then the console exploded and the room went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains unbalanced, possessive, amoral Doctor. And seduction.

  
_She’s here again  
Your only friend   
Watching over you   
She never takes her eyes away from you_  
~ “Cry” by Def Leppard

_How can I pretend that I don’t see  
What you hide so carelessly?  
I saw her bleed.  
You heard me breathe,  
And I froze inside myself  
And turned away.  
I must be dreaming._

_We all live.  
We all die.  
That does not begin to justify you._

_It’s not what it seems,  
Not what you think.  
No, I must be dreaming._  
~ “Bleed (I Must be Dreaming)” by Evanescence

The Doctor was thrown off his feet, landed hard on top of Annabelle. She shoved him off purely out of instinct and moved into a defensive stance, a new adrenaline rush giving her strength. 

Dean groaned somewhere to her left, “That’s my problem with flights.” 

“Shut up, Dean. Doctor, what happened?”

The Time Lord didn’t answer. He was knocked out cold, and it didn’t look like he was going to be waking up any time soon.

Annabelle was more annoyed than concerned. “Of course! This _would_ happen now! Dean, you take care of him. I’ll . . . figure something out.” She moved to the console, circling it but not touching it, and muttered to the TARDIS, “Come on, Sexy, give me something to work with . . .”

Nothing happened. The power was down, and she didn’t even get so much as an answering hum in response. Then she heard a faint moan coming from the Doctor. It sounded like “Out.”

Annabelle glanced at him, continued her circle. “Go on, Dean. Take him out of here. I’m right behind you.” 

“You better follow or I’ll ground you . . . until you move out.” 

“Funny you think you can control me. Out. Now.” She watched as Dean slung the Doctor's arm around his shoulders and dragged the Time Lord out. Annabelle then took a minute looking around the room for something anything that may hint at what happened. Finding nothing, she left the TARDIS slowly.

The Doctor’s eyes suddenly snapped open, but they were blank, unseeing. It was so sudden that Dean nearly dropped him.

Annabelle came up next to Dean and helped him hold the Doctor up. “Come on, Dean. Get a grip,” she scolded. The teen looked around and breathed, “London.” They were in London. Annabelle pulled herself back together, shaking her head as if that could rid her of the thoughts of running to her friends here and hiding from what was happening. The thoughts left her mind as she wondered if this was Pete's World. “Dean,” she said, “I think I know where we can find help.” 

“Lead the way.” 

Annabelle formed a mental map of how the Doctor described this place and headed in the direction she thought she might find Rose.

As if Annabelle’s thoughts had called her up, a blonde walked out of a doorway across the street. Her eyes swept from side to side, then focused on the three of them, zoomed in on the man in the middle. “Doctor!” Without even thinking, she ran toward them, took the Time Lord from Dean and Annabelle. “What happened to him? Where’d you find him?” 

The Doctor, meanwhile, realized Rose was now the one holding him. He came out of his trance and wrapped his arms around her; buried his face in her hair, the crook of her neck; breathed in her scent. He knew Rose was thinking he was the meta-crisis Doctor; why would she assume he was the real one? The two of them looked exactly alike, after all.

Annabelle‘s voice asked, “Rose? Rose Tyler, right? The Doctor's companion? Bad Wolf?”

The blonde drew back from the Doctor, took in the two of them. “Yeah,” she said warily. “Who’s asking?”

“It’s not important who we are,” Annabelle said. “We don’t exactly belong here. He needs you.” She nodded toward the Doctor “That’s your Doctor. He’s . . . sick . . .”

Rose’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she placed one palm over the left side of the Doctor’s chest, then his right, felt the double heartbeat. Then she nodded briskly. “Okay. We can take him over there.” She jerked her head back at the building she’d come out of and explained, “That’s this universe’s Torchwood—and relax; my dad’s in charge now.” 

At the mention of Torchwood, the Doctor stiffened and tightened his hold on her. “No.” The word came out as a low growl.

Annabelle looked between them then to Dean, who gave her a look that clearly said she knew more about this, so she was in charge here. “I . . . um . . . I think he just needs some rest . . .” 

“Okay.” Rose managed to disentangle herself from the Doctor, then threw one of his arms over her shoulder. She led him into the building, taking him into her office, and ignored the fact his feet were seemingly dragging on purpose, as if he was slowing her progress. She set him down on the little couch in there then turned to face Annabelle and Dean. “What happened?”

Annabelle thought about what she was going to tell Rose, pacing as she did so. Somehow, saying “I left the Doctor for a while and when I came back, he’d changed. A few bad things happened, and I think you're the only one who can fix him” didn’t seem like the right way to go about this. Finally, when she had a story, she stopped pacing and looked Rose in the eye. The words ended up coming out fast, making her sound panicky: “I left him for a while, and he changed, and I tried my best—I really did—despite everything, but I couldn’t help him. He always talks about you—he loves you so much. Then Jack showed up. He said you were the only ones that could make him better, so I thought it was worth a try, and we all got in the TARDIS and then the console”—Annabelle indicated an explosion with her hands—“and he”—she pointed at the Doctor—“did that, and I have no idea where we’re at or what we’re supposed to do or how any of this works . . .” Annabelle stopped, feeling unwelcome. Tears stung her eyes as she realized her words were jumbling up together. Dean looked surprised by her sudden break down but didn’t know what to do to help her. Annabelle looked hopelessly at Rose and pleaded, “Please help . . .”

Rose looked from the teenager to the hunter before her gaze rested on the Time Lord. Her teeth worked at her lower lip for a moment, and she reached out a hand, ran it through the Doctor’s hair. He was well out of his coma by now but decided to remain still. Besides, he was enjoying the sensation of Rose’s fingers combing through his thick brown hair and didn’t want her to stop. 

Then her hand stilled as Rose looked back up at Annabelle. “What do you mean he changed?” 

Before either Annabelle or Dean could reply, the door opened and a familiar face popped into the room. “Rose, what’s going on? Pete got a call that I was wounded, and—” The meta-crisis Doctor cut himself off as he saw his Time Lord counterpart and the two other people in the room. “Well, isn’t that just _wizard_ ,” he muttered under his breath.

Annabelle ignored the meta-crisis. Her full focus was now on the one person that gave her any little glimmer of hope that this might actually end well: Rose. “I don’t want to talk about it. He just changed,” she told the blonde. 

It was now Dean’s turn to panic as he took in the meta-crisis. “What the hell is that?!”

The meta-crisis Doctor stepped into the room, eyeing Dean with an expression that was somewhere between irritation and being offended. “I’m the Doctor.”

Annabelle turned angrily on the meta-crisis, pointing accusingly as if he’d done something wrong. Her hand trembled as she yelled, “You’re not the Doctor! You can try as hard as you want but you never will be—and you, Rose Tyler, do whatever it is you do that makes the _real_ Doctor like you so much! I’ve had _enough_! No more distractions! Can we all manage to focus for five minutes!?” Her chest shook with each breath. She was barely managing not to cry, barely hiding how panicked she really was. She had everyone's attention now and closed her eyes tight against their stares. “Please, Rose,” Annabelle whispered. “He needs _you_.”

Rose’s eyes flicked from her original Doctor to his clone, the one who was standing right in front of the door. Then she sat down on the arm of the couch and whispered in his ear, “C’mon, Doctor. Wake up.” The Doctor inwardly smiled to himself, figured there was no more point in pretending to be out of commission, and sat up suddenly, startling Rose, Dean, and Annabelle. His brown eyes locked on his half-human counterpart, blazing with so much loathing that everyone else in the room instinctively took a step back.

Annabelle couldn’t hold her panic back anymore. She moved to the nearest corner, slid down the wall, and brought her knees to her chest, hiding her face and failing miserably at trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Dean moved to make sure she was okay, trying to avoid drawing the Doctor’s attention as he crouched next to Annabelle and placed a hand on her back. He asked quietly, “Kid, are you gonna be okay?” 

“Leave me alone, Dean. Go join the adults.” 

“Are you okay?” he pressed. 

“Leave me. I’ll pull myself together and be fine. Go.” 

Dean stood up and took a few steps away from Annabelle, putting himself back in between Rose, the Doctor, and the Doctor’s meta-crisis. “So what now?”

“What do you think happens, Dean?” There was an almost musical lilt to the Doctor’s voice as he tilted his head, studied his clone. His hand found and slipped into Rose’s, and there was something possessive about the simple gesture. Without waiting for an answer, the Doctor focused his attention on the meta-crisis. “Leaving her here with you was a _mistake_.” Something almost sadistic flashed in his eyes as he added, “You shouldn’t even _exist_. Surely you must have figured out what I had to do to Donna?” 

The meta-crisis’s expression tightened. “What has that got to do with—?” He broke off as the realization dawned in his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Dean protested, “You don’t really have to do that, do you? He hasn’t done anything wrong, right?”

“You weren’t there on the Dalek _Crucible,_ Dean.” The Doctor stepped forward, palmed Dean's switchblade and had it up his sleeve before the hunter even knew he was missing the knife. “There’s never been a human-Time Lord biological meta-crisis before. I had to erase Donna's memory to keep her safe, over her begging for me not to. Surely you can guess why.” 

Behind him, Rose flinched back, as if she’d been slapped. The Doctor didn’t see it, but he felt her hand flex momentarily in his.

Annabelle shrank back a little more in her corner. Dean fell silent, not wanting to get himself into more trouble than he was already in with the Doctor. Annabelle sniffled and lifted her head, observing the scene. Slowly she stood. When she spoke up, her voice was quiet and hoarse: “Doctor . . . what exactly are you going to do?”

He didn’t answer her question. “Dean . . . get out of the way.” His voice was low, deadly calm.

Before Dean could decide for himself Annabelle reached out, grabbed his jacket, and pulled him back into the corner with her. Despite her urge to hide behind him she pushed him behind her, making it clear he didn’t have any choice besides to stand down and let the Doctor have his way.

The Time Lord stepped close to his counterpart, uncomfortably so, and the meta-crisis swallowed nervously. Then, surprising everyone, the Doctor rested one hand over his counterpart’s heart, slipped his other arm around the other man’s shoulders, and dragged him in for a hug. He’d slipped the pocketknife out from his sleeve so it was in the hand resting over that single heart. In a detached way, he slid the blade out, drove it through his meta-crisis’s ribs into his heart, then retracted the knife. A grim, satisfied smile flickered briefly on the Doctor's lips as he stepped back, watched his meta-crisis’s shocked reaction.

Annabelle turned around and buried her face in Dean’s jacket so she didn’t have to watch. Dean looked away as well, wrapping his arms protectively around Annabelle to give her a small sense of comfort and safety.

“ _No_!” Rose started forward, a mixture of shock, anger, and disbelief on her face.

The small sense of safety left Annabelle; she got out of Dean's grip, stood in front of Rose. Her voice was nearly a whisper but still firm: “Stop please. Don't make him mad. Who knows what he’ll do . . .”

Rose glared at her, flecks of gold spinning in her eyes, and stepped around Annabelle. Dropping down to her knees beside the meta-crisis Doctor, Rose tried to do the best she could to help him. Then she turned and glared up at the Doctor. Her eyes briefly flashed gold, and for the first time the Time Lord felt a little nervous. “What the _hell_ did you do that for?!” Rose demanded.

The Doctor didn’t answer her, just crouched down next to her and rested a cool, long-fingered hand on her shoulder. “C'mon.” His voice was soft, firm, and barely audible. “Leave him be.”

Annabelle and Dean watched in disbelief, Annabelle’s eyes flicking from the Doctor to Rose to the meta-crisis and back to the Doctor. Still looking shocked she backed to the couch, sat down and just stared blankly into space. Dean didn’t move at all; his mouth had fallen open as he stared at the Time Lord, an incredulous look on his face.

Rose tensed, let the Doctor bring her to her feet, and then shoved him as hard as she could. He stumbled back a couple steps, and she used the opportunity to bolt. Without a backwards look at Annabelle and Dean, the Doctor went after her.

Annabelle ran after them with Dean close on her heels quietly begging her to stop and let them go. She blocked out his voice and focused on keeping moving, pushing herself to go faster.

The Doctor ignored the curious glances from Torchwood personnel and finally caught up to Rose outside the building, One hand clamped down possessively on her shoulder, while the other snaked around her waist, drew her close against him. Rose struggled and kicked out, but after realizing he was too strong for her, her body sagged against him.

Annabelle stopped abruptly when she saw him catch Rose. Dean nearly ran into his charge; and when she turned to face him, Annabelle saw the anger in his eyes as he looked at the Doctor, watched the way he treated Rose.

Dean’s own anger flared: No girl should be treated like that. 

Annabelle sensed Dean was about to go start a fight, and she knew it wouldn’t end well for Dean. She put a hand out, stopping him before he could take a step forward. “Dean, look at me.” Her voice shook a little but was still firm. 

He didn’t move his eyes away from the Time Lord. 

“Dean! Look at me! Now!” 

“Let me go, Annabelle,” her guardian said tightly. 

“No. Let it go, Dean. _Look_ at me. You can’t pick a fight with him. You _can’t_ , okay?”

“Why not?” 

She shook him, making him turn his glare on her. Annabelle looked right into his eyes, her own gray orbs desperate. “Because he’ll take you out of time too and you _can’t_ leave me. Got it?” 

Dean’s eyes softened the slightest bit. “I can’t let him do that.” 

“Too bad. Don’t get in his way. Please. Let me handle it. You stay right here.” Annabelle didn’t wait for his answer. She turned around and walked swiftly to Rose and the Doctor, anger burning in her eyes again. “Hey! Let her go! Obviously she doesn’t want you touching her and you know what? I don’t blame her!”

The Doctor ignored Annabelle and ghosted his hands over Rose's body, his touch now gentle where earlier it had been rough, constricting. His head dipped to the side of her neck, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled Rose's scent. He resisted the urge to dart out his tongue to taste her. “She’s okay with it now, aren’t you, Rose?” he purred. “Besides, there's a tiny bit of the Time Vortex still in her. I thought I’d taken it all out, but I guess some of it must have stayed.” His dark eyes flicked up to Annabelle’s gray ones. “That gold in her eyes? That’s Bad Wolf—or what's left of her, anyway. It must have stayed dormant, hidden inside her—after all this time.” His focus shifted to Rose. “Clever little wolf, aren’t you?” he murmured, breath warm on her ear as his teeth lightly nipped at her earlobe, then his mouth moved down to nuzzle at the tender skin of her throat.

Annabelle locked eyes with Rose, silently asking if she really was okay with this. She avoided looking at the Doctor as she said, “Let her decide for herself. If she says no, _back off_.” 

Dean wasn’t able to stay put as Annabelle said and took a position beside her. “Didn’t you ever learn the _correct_ way to treat a woman?” he growled.

“And, what, I suppose _you_ can teach me? You don’t exactly have the best track record yourself, Dean,” the Doctor retorted.

“I did what was best. All those girls had the best night of their lives with me because I treated them with _respect_.” 

“Maybe you should explain what respect is, Dean,” Annabelle said. “I think that may be a new concept for him.”

The Doctor stiffened, subtly moved so that he was slightly in front of Rose, making sure that at least he was holding her hand. Now that he’d found her, he never wanted to let her go.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow. “What?” Her tone turned sarcastic: “Oh did I offend you? I’m so sorry. That was totally _not_ my intention.”

“’Course it wasn’t,” the Doctor said scathingly. He realized he was tracing Circular Gallifreyan absent-mindedly on the back of Rose's hand, but he didn’t stop. “If anything, _you’re_ the one who needs a lesson. You're fourteen, not twenty-one.” His mouth curled in a disdainful sneer. “I respect the Daleks as much as I fear them, respect Rassilon and the Master even though I _really_ don't like them; I respected Martha, Donna, and Jack for what they did for me in their time on the TARDIS. As for Rose . . . why do you think I want— _need_ —her back?” The hand that was holding hers moved to her waist and drew her to his side. The movement was so subtle that Annabelle and Dean barely noticed it.

Annabelle wasn’t finished. “Did you stop to think about what _Rose_ wants? Did you stop to ask her if she wants to go with you again and leave this behind? Of course not because she's just a _stupid ape_ like Dean and I, right? You’re in charge and there's no other way besides yours is there, Mr. Superior?” she mocked.

His eyes flashed angrily, and he stepped forward. Rose suddenly put a restraining hand on his arm, sent him a look that said, _Let me handle this_. He stepped back, nodded briefly at her. Rose said, “I told him ages ago that I’d made my choice a long time ago and was never going to leave him. Besides, I’ve dealt with him when he's like this before, and”—her eyes shone gold again before fading to their normal light-brown—“I can take care of myself.” Then her expression hardened, and she whirled around, slapped the Doctor hard across the face. “You didn’t have to kill him! Don't you remember why you left him with me in the first place?” 

He didn’t respond; he was too busy looking shocked and rubbing the side of his cheek.

Annabelle smirked at the Doctor’s shock. “Alright. Got it, Rose. Dean and I will be somewhere around here if we're needed.” Both hunters turned around to walk away.

Before Rose could say anything, the Doctor gripped her elbow tightly and started leading her towards the familiar sturdy blue shape of the TARDIS. She paused momentarily—she couldn’t go in there; she _couldn’t_ , not after what he just did to the man she’d lain with for a year now—but the pressure on her elbow increased slightly the moment she did. So she allowed him to usher her inside his ship, his home.

-oOo-

Annabelle and Dean found a motel and rented a room. Once inside, Annabelle laid down on the bed, ready to crash.

That wasn’t going to happen, since Dean had begun scolding her for her behavior. 

“What were you thinking?!” he yelled. “You’re not a freaking commander, Annabelle! You’re out of control!” He started pacing, strides short, as he thought of a suitable punishment. “If we ever get home you're grounded for . . . for till college!”

Annabelle groaned. “I know I’m out of control but until college?”

“Yes! Come on, kid! You're acting like whatever you say next can end the world!” 

“I know.” 

“Why?”

“I have no excuse. Can we talk later? I’m exhausted.” 

Dean looked over at her, saw her eyelids drooping. His eyes softened. “Fine.” He made his voice stern again as he added, “But when you’re awake we’re gonna have a serious talk.” 

“Yes sir,” Annabelle mumbled before falling asleep.

-oOo-

The doors shut behind Rose as soon as she was inside. Instinctively, she knew that it wouldn't do any good to try and open them—he'd had the TARDIS do something similar to her before, especially when he decided to take her fate into his own hands and send her away for her own well-being. It seemed like, this time, that wasn’t the case. 

Nervously, she forced herself to meet his eyes, knowing the facade she’d put on for Dean and Annabelle had been just that. Yes, working with Torchwood had taught her self-defense—and when she _did_ pick up a gun, she never shot to kill—but this was the Doctor, the man she'd fallen in love with back when he was all leather, blue eyes, big ears, black hair, and a Northern accent—and he would never do anything to hurt her. So why did she feel so uncomfortable around him now? Never mind the fact he killed his meta-crisis in cold blood right in front of her. There was something . . . different about him. He was almost like he’d been when he was straight out of the Time War—but it wasn’t that, not exactly. 

“D-Doctor?” Rose finally asked.

“Yes?” His eyes bored into hers, the rich chocolate-brown almost black. There was an odd, hungry gleam there, and she stepped back, fighting the urge to run.

-oOo-

Dean shook his head, wondering how Annabelle had fallen asleep so easily with everything that had been going on. Then again, she’d been on the front lines the whole time, and he was positive she wouldn't sleep in the TARDIS with the Doctor's recent change. He looked away from her and out the window into the parallel universe, wondering how he could get more information about this place he’s stuck in.

-oOo-

The Doctor’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist, but his touch was light, gentle. Slowly, he drew her to him—and Rose found she couldn’t look away from him, from his eyes. “Well, Rose? What is it?” His voice was low, almost a purr, and her traitorous body reacted, wanting to move even closer to him—to rid him of the clothing covering that skinny frame she knew so well. She resisted the urge, but just barely. More than that, the hand on her wrist was cool, cooler than her own—yet another reminder that he was not the man she’d lived with in an alternate universe for a year now (and it had taken her some time to get used to the changes between her original Doctor and his half-human counterpart).

-oOo-

After deciding Annabelle would be out for a while, Dean left to find a library or somewhere with a computer he could use. It was hours before he returned, accidentally letting the door slam behind him. 

Annabelle jumped up, grabbed her angel blade from under her pillow and aimed it at Dean, who put his hands up. “Easy, kid, just me,” he said.

“I realized.” She put down the blade and cringed, lay back down. 

“Are you gonna pass out on me again? I brought food.” Dean held up a bag of food from some fast food restaurant. 

Annabelle glanced at it skeptically. “I’m not hungry. Thanks though.” She abruptly changed the subject: “So, grounded until college?” 

“Maybe I’ll reduce the time for good behavior and good grades,” Dean joked. 

Annabelle grinned a little. “Seriously, Dean what do you want me to do? Apologize to the Doctor? You saw what he did to that poor clone thing and . . .” She trailed off, not wanting to mention Sam, afraid he might turn it on her. 

Instead Dean just nodded and said, “I know. What I want you to do is this: calm down and stop trying to control everything. You’re not a god and you can’t keep blaming everything on yourself.” 

“Why can’t I blame it on myself? Dean, I’m the one that—” 

“No, Annabelle. He was different when you first met him. You didn’t know. You couldn’t have. You can’t blame yourself for this.” 

“All right . . . sorry . . .”

-oOo-

“Rose?” the Doctor asked again when she didn’t respond immediately. He idly swirled one index finger over the skin of her wrist, her palm. His other hand went to her waist, slipped under her shirt, and he nearly groaned at the heat of her bare skin. She was so, so hot compared to him: fire to ice.

“What happened to you, to make you like—” Her voice shook, breathing unsteady, as his hand on her waist moved around to her back, drew her even closer. “—like this?”

“Like what?” he asked innocently, his eyes holding hers as he slid a cool hand up her back. The other glided up her arm, fingers just barely brushing her skin, and he smiled inwardly at the feel of gooseflesh beneath his touch.

Why had he never done this with her before?

Oh right, because he’d been a coward.

“You know what,” Rose countered, trying to make her voice sound tough and failing.

“No, I don’t.” It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. In his current state, she could be referring to anything. Besides, he wasn’t interested in talking at the moment. He’d wasted too many chances with Rose before, and it was taking all his self-control—what little he currently had of it—not to back her up against a coral strut and have his way with her.

Rose stepped back, and he couldn’t stop the acute sense of loss. Then her arms were around his neck, her body was flush against his— _Oh, yes, yes, yes. More. Please, more. Don’t tease me, Rose._ —and her lips were mere millimeters away from his. All he had to do was close the tiny distance, and . . . 

Instead she turned her head, moved closer to his ear, and whispered, “Later, Doctor.” Then she slipped away from him, turned, and strode over to the TARDIS doors.

“Where are you going?” He had to fight hard not to let the question come out as a snarl.

“To find Dean and Annabelle. I’ll be right back.” Rose left without looking back at him.

He didn’t bother holding back the low growl this time.

-oOo-

Annabelle found Rose reading in the library, hesitated before stopping to talk to her. She still approached Rose cautiously and asked, “Rose? Is this a bad time to talk?”

“Don’t think so, no.” Rose set the book aside, tucked a curl of blonde hair behind her ear. “What's bothering you? And what's wrong with the Doctor? He still won't tell me.” She chewed at her lower lip for a moment. “He would never have done that in front of me, not when I was traveling with him. Well, he was going to kill a Dalek, but I managed to talk him out of it. What happened after . . .?”

“I don’t know,” Annabelle reluctantly admitted. “He doesn't talk much about his past. I mean, he talks lots about you but nothing else. I’m sorry he did that. I was going to ask you if you'd figured it out. I had to leave him for a while and when I came back he was this way. If he's done anything to hurt you I'm so sorry. Jack said you might be able to help and I figured it was worth a try.” She shrugged halfheartedly, disappointed that she couldn’t give Rose more information.

A tiny smile flickered at the edges of Rose’s mouth; then it was gone. “Yeah, he never told me much about his past either—even when he was part-human. Guess both of them were like that. I knew he was an alien, a Time Lord; that he’d lost his planet in the Time War—but I never knew the name of his home, what it had been like. I don’t think I wanted to know, didn’t want to reopen any wounds. He was so damaged when I first met him—initially, he didn’t even want to take me on as a companion. Now . . . it’s almost like that, but not quite. Did he tell you what he did after Bad Wolf Bay?”

Annabelle shook her head. “Bad Wolf Bay was the last time you two saw each other, right?”

“Yeah. You can’t remember anything he might have mentioned, anything at all?”

Annabelle thought for a minute. “He just talked a lot about what he's done in the past, you know, about the genocides . . . and when I found him again he . . . he said he'd killed off twelve species. He said it so casually . . . That’s when everything went downhill but a lot of it is my fault.”

“What do you mean it's your fault?” Rose stopped, ran over Annabelle’s words in her mind. “Hang on, what d’you mean he's killed off _twelve_ species? Did he give a reason for doing it?”

The teenage hunter suddenly found it hard to look Rose in the eye and focused on the bookshelf behind her instead. “He wouldn't say. I only pissed him off more. You're gonna hate me for this, but I tried to kill him.”

A wry smile crossed Rose's lips. “You're not the first one to have tried.” Her smile faded. “I'm the one who caused him to regenerate, but I don’t even remember how it happened. He never really told me. I mean, I saw him regenerate before my eyes, but he hadn’t told me about it beforehand. Then he looked completely different, and—” She cut herself off. “I didn't even think he was the Doctor at first—but I don’t think you want to hear much about that.” 

“Oh, I think she does,” a familiar voice drawled suddenly from the doorway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: dub-con, rape

_You’ll never know the way your words have haunted me.  
_ _I can’t believe you’d ask these things of me.  
_ _You don’t know me, now or ever._  
~ “Snow White Queen” by Evanescence

_Is this real enough for you?  
_ _You were so confused.  
_ _Now that you've decided to stay  
_ _We'll remain together._

_You can't abandon me.  
_ _You belong to me._  
~ "Surrender" by Evanescence

 

Both Annabelle and Rose jumped at the sound of the Doctor's voice, and their heads whipped in his direction.

            He was leaning against a bookshelf, one leg crossed over the other, and it was impossible for them to tell how long he’d been there.

            Annabelle glared at him. “I’d love to hear about it, Rose, but I don't appreciate being eavesdropped on.”

            “Who said I was eavesdropping?” the Doctor said innocently. “I didn’t hear much, just the bit about you trying to kill me.”

            “I hope you don’t think I feel even a bit of sadness over it. I was just explaining it was a mistake.” That was a lie; Annabelle really felt bad about what she did, but the casual tone she managed made it sound like she meant it.

            “Well, if you were actually listening, you would have noticed that I agreed with you.” His gaze slid past Annabelle to Rose. “You never exactly _did_ tell me what you did while you were stuck in Pete's World,” the Doctor said to the blonde.

            “You never asked,” Rose replied coolly.

            Annabelle, picking up on the sudden tension, asked quickly, “Should I give you two some time?”

            The Doctor tilted his head, and a tiny smile flickered on his lips. His eyes didn’t leave Rose. “Yes, I think you should. Why don’t you go and see where Dean’s wandered off to? We wouldn’t want him getting lost, after all.”

            Annabelle’s temper flared; her fists clenched as she took his statement about Dean not getting lost as a threat, but she kept control. “No, we wouldn’t.”

            She left to find Dean, her anger fading when she found him exactly where she left him reading one of the books she had in her room. “Dean? Everything okay?” she asked.

            “Yeah. Why? Is something wrong?”

            “No. Just making sure.”

            Once Annabelle was gone, the Doctor crossed the short distance to Rose, stopped in front of her, and braced both arms against the shelf on either side of her, preventing her from moving. His eyes swept over her, noticing the little changes. Her face was narrower, blonde hair streaked with light-brown highlights, and she was leaner than he remembered.

            “You just said that to get her to leave, didn’t you?” Rose challenged him.

            “Yep.”

            “And what are you going to do to me?” Rose’s voice was a little shaky—possibly from fear, nervousness, but he liked to think it was from something else. He didn’t say anything, just smirked and leaned in close.

-oOo-

Annabelle left Dean alone, sensing he didn’t want to talk. She took the notebook in which she’d filled in her adventures with the Doctor and started jotting down what she hadn’t noted yet, adding in Rose’s arrival and a few concerns she had: What he may be doing to Rose; wondering if he was hurting her; questioning if this really was a good idea or not.

            Somehow, Annabelle didn’t think it was.

-oOo-

The Doctor pressed a light kiss to Rose’s forehead, trailed more over her face. One of his hands rested on the wall over her head, hemming her in; the other rested on the curve of her hip. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?” he whispered in her ear, the hand on her hip slipping underneath her shirt to splay across warm skin. He dipped his head, tongue darting out to lick the salt from her neck. “Hurt you? No, never. Take you, make you scream my name? Oh, yes. Several times over, if I can.” He chuckled low and lifted his head to sweep greedy eyes over her body. “You belong to me, Rose,” he growled softly. _My precious girl. My snow white queen._ Odd way to describe her, when she was all pink-and-yellow—but right now, her skin was definitely on the pale side.

            She shook her head, golden-brown eyes dark with fear—and something that might be defiance. “I don’t belong to _anyone_.”

            “Oh, really?” His hand under her shirt began to move, his fingertips massaging in circles across her skin as he moved up her back. He ducked his head, his brown eyes holding hers for a long moment, before pressing yet another kiss to her collarbone and moving down. She inhaled sharply, her body arching toward him out of reflex.

            “There’s nowhere to run, Rose,” he murmured, cool breath caressing the inner swell of her breasts. _So let’s just get it over._

            She froze beneath him, breathing in short pants, her body trembling.

            He nipped lightly at her soft skin, rasped his tongue gently over the mark he’d just made, before trailing kisses up her neck even as he pressed her closer to him.

            “You’re _mine_ ,” he purred in her ear, his free hand—the one that was resting on the wall behind her—trailing down the side of her face, her body, to rest on her hip before sliding even further down.

            Her hands suddenly found his waist, applied pressure. When he didn’t step back, she pushed him off her. “Not right now, I’m not,” she snapped. “You don’t know me as well as you did, Doctor.”

            Rose slipped away from him, walked out the library, and started running.

            No matter. He could always find her later if he wanted to.

            Oh, how he wanted to.

-oOo-

Rose was hardly aware of where her feet were taking her, but somehow she found herself ending up near Annabelle's room.

            The teenager heard her running and stepped out into the hallway to see what was going on; Rose nearly ran into her. “Whoa, slow down! Are you okay?” Annabelle asked her.  When she didn‘t receive an instant response, she said, “Come sit down.” She led Rose into her room.

             Dean glanced up at them and set down the book he was reading, looking to Annabelle. She immediately understood that he wanted to know if Rose was okay. The teen just shrugged. Dean’s gaze switched to Rose, but he said nothing.

            "He just—” Rose cut herself off, avoided Dean’s eyes.

            “Dean, can you maybe go explore a little?” Annabelle said quickly.

            Dean nodded, understanding, and got up to leave. Annabelle caught his arm before he could leave and murmured, “Just . . . stay away from the Doctor. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

             "Don’t worry about me. Come find me later.” Dean shook off her grip and left.

            Annabelle turned back to Rose. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. We should've left you alone. Did he hurt you?”

            Rose shook her head. “No, not really.” She sat next to Annabelle on the bed then let herself fall back onto the comforter. “But he comes back for me, kills the man he gave me so I could spend the rest of my life with some version of him, and then acts like nothing happened and tries to—” She stopped. “You probably don’t want to hear about that.”

            “I’ve got an idea of what he’s trying to do. Listen, Rose, I made him come back for you. I didn't think he would . . . Then again, with how he's been acting I guess I should’ve thought it through . . .” Annabelle covered her face with her hands, trying to think. “As for the clone guy, he said he hated leaving you with him but he was trying to do what was best for you. . .  What are we gonna do about him? We can't let him do this! I feel like a prisoner.”

            “He didn’t rape me if that’s what you’re thinking.” Rose sighed, sat back up. “Tell me about yourself. I’m guessing the Doctor's told you almost everything, but I hardly know you and Dean. What do you two do?”

            “We hunt,” Annabelle replied. “Monsters, angels, demons, that kind of thing. Neither of us have anyone else. Dean and his brother took me in about a year ago after my family was killed. There’s not much to tell.”

            “What, seriously? You two hunt angels and demons?” Rose paused, almost as if she didn’t want to ask the next question, but she did so in a quiet voice: “What happened to Dean’s brother?”

            “I really don’t think you want to know the answer to that question. Besides, I don’t know specifics.”

            “Okay. You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

            “The Doctor?” Annabelle paused, choosing her words carefully. “I wanted to, but I know better than trying now. I have to be here for Dean and I've had two people now tell me that I shouldn’t.”

-oOo-

Dean, meanwhile, was heading toward the console room to confront the Doctor.

            The Time Lord was sitting back in the yellow captain's chair, feet resting up on the console, and his hands laced behind his head. “Looking for someone, Dean?” His eyes were half-closed, but it was obvious he could see the hunter clearly. Something about him read as smug, satisfied, but Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on why. And even though the Doctor looked relaxed, he reminded Dean of a large cat or even a wolf. If he was going with mythological creatures, he’d even say the Doctor reminded him of a nogitsune.

            That didn’t stop Dean from pulling the Doctor to his feet and throwing him roughly against the console. “What the hell did you do to that poor girl?” the hunter snarled.

            “I didn’t hurt her. I would never hurt Rose.” Anger at Dean for even suggesting that he would flashed in his eyes; then it was replaced by a sly glint. “Besides, she wanted it. And Rose isn’t a girl. She’s twenty-five years old—only a few years younger than you.”

            “Then why’d she run?” Dean countered. “I’m sure it wasn’t for nothing. And would it make you feel better if I called her a lady? I didn’t mean any disrespect . . . to her.”

            The Doctor’s face turned carefully expressionless, but Dean sensed a cold rage simmering underneath. “It wasn't, not really, and of course you didn’t. Now back off.”

            “And if I don’t?” Dean tightened his hold on the Time Lord.

            The Doctor didn’t answer, just quirked his mouth in a cold smirk and brought his knee up. He slithered out of Dean's grip seconds later, and slowly circled the human. “What now, Dean, hhm?”

            “You think I’d give up that easily?” Dean threw a punch, aiming for the Doctor’s face.

            The Doctor easily sidestepped the punch, aimed one of his own at the side of Dean’s jaw. “Didn’t think so, no.” For a second, Dean thought he saw a malicious glint in those brown eyes, but it was gone before he can be sure.

            He dodged the blow coming toward him and tackled the Doctor. There was a loud crash as both of them fell.

            They rolled together, grappling on the metal grating of the floor, neither able to find enough purchase to seriously injure the other. Then the Time Lord managed to slither out of the hunter's grip and bounced to his feet. “Come on, then,” he dared.

            Dean was now seriously pissed off and about to lash out at the Doctor again when Rose and Annabelle ran into the console room. Annabelle put herself between them and shoved Dean back. She yelled, “What the hell are you thinking?!”

            “Get out of the way, Annabelle,” Dean warned her in a low snarl.

            “No! I told you to stay away from him! You idiot! You saw what he did to Sam! He could do that just as easily to you!”

            “Don’t care. Let me go.”

            Her anger rising, she shoved Dean hard enough to knock him down. “Start caring! I'd rather die than lose you!”

            _That_ got Dean's attention. He took his eyes off of the Doctor and regarded the glaring teen standing over him. “But he—”

            “I don’t care!”

            Rose, meanwhile, stalked over to the Doctor, her light-brown eyes flashing. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you?” She jabbed an accusing finger at his chest, resisted the urge to shove him up against the console.

            The Doctor’s brown eyes turned insolent, and the shade they were now for some reason reminded her of molten chocolate. “There’s _nothing_ wrong with me.” His voice was a low growl.

            Rose scoffed. “Dean and Captain Jack—your meta-crisis, even—would beg to differ.”

            The Doctor’s hands were suddenly gripping her wrists tightly, and he thrust his face close to hers. “Forget about them,” he hissed.

Annabelle turned angrily on the Doctor. “If you hurt her, I will stab you again—and this time I’ll make sure my blade hits one of your hearts. Let go of her _now_.”

            His eyes remained locked on Rose’s for another few tense seconds before he let go of her wrists. Rose backed up and started to walk away, then turned back around and gave him a Jackie Tyler slap across the face. “ _Leave me alone_ ,” she growled. Without looking back at him, she stormed off into the depths of the TARDIS.

            Annabelle grabbed Dean's arm before he could start another fight and murmured, “Go after Rose. Make sure she’s all right.”

            “What about you?”

            “I’m staying here. Don’t worry about me. Just go.”

            Dean left, albeit reluctantly. Annabelle glared at the Doctor for a minute before she was calm enough to speak without saying anything she would regret too much. “You’ve got a funny way of showing her you love her,” she said at last. “I shouldn’t have made you go get her with the way you’re treating her. That’s called abuse.”

            The Doctor said nothing, just ducked his head before lifting it up and fixing her with an unreadable almost-black stare. One corner of his upper lip lifted in the hint of a snarl. That look said, _Don’t even_ think _about going there._

            “Quit glaring,” Annabelle snapped. “You know I’m right. The hell do you think you’re doing to her? You’re not making her happy that's for sure. Get it together—I mean, really. This is just getting ridiculous. You’re not doing anyone any good, especially not yourself. And poor Rose. You think it was right to kill that meta-crisis in front of her? You scare her. Is that you want? Cuz we can go back and drop her off in Pete's World again. There’s plenty of other humans to terrorize.”

            “No.” He didn’t bother to clarify. “I could always just drop you and Dean off, but that would never have occurred to you, would it?” The Doctor pulled down the lever that started the time rotor, and seconds later they were in flight and heading back to their own universe.

            “It did,” Annabelle replied, “and you can try if that pleases you but it’s not gonna change the fact that what you just did was abuse. It wouldn't change the fact that you scare her. It wouldn’t change anything, really. Just make it a lot quieter.”

            “Are you speaking from experience?”

            “Everywhere I’ve ever been has been a temporary home. I’ve done stupid things. I’ve scared people and I’ve run from that. The silence of being alone is the worst punishment I’ve ever had. Is that what made you like this? The torture of your own thoughts?”

            He gave a slight, humorless smile. “I’ve had nine other bodies, Annabelle, and I have all the memories from my previous incarnations. It’s a wonder I haven't gone the same way as the Master before now.” He flashed back to Arcadia, the sight of hundreds of Dalek saucers, screams of terror and cries of “EXTERMINATE!”; flashed back to the last day of the Time War— _there’s a bright light, a brilliant flash . . . then Gallifrey is gone._

            “I hope you’re having fun with that because the rest of us are miserable.”

            This time, he found he couldn’t look at her. “You try living with no other voices in your head except for your own when you’re used to so many others, then. See how sane you end up being.”

            “If there was a way for me to help you don't you think I would've done it already? If I could take the burden for you I would. Best I could do for you was Rose as far as I know.”

            The Doctor smiled faintly, quoted a line from a Def Leppard song: “The demons that you hide, screaming through the night—they won’t forget you.” He didn’t say anything after that, just disappeared into the corridors of his ship. He had to find Rose, talk to her, make her understand . . . If she didn’t, if she rejected him . . . the way he was going he wouldn’t care if he ended up killing himself. (He almost had, when dealing with the Racnoss. If Donna hadn’t been there . . .)

            Annabelle stayed behind. She closed her gray eyes and ran a hand through her light-brown hair, pulling it back and gathering her thoughts before letting it fall back the way it was. Then she remembered she sent Dean after Rose and ran to find him, passing the Doctor on her way to get to them before the Time Lord. Bursting into the room, she asked, “Dean, can I borrow you for a second?”

            “Are you okay?” her guardian said in concern.

            “I’m fine. Will you please come with me?”

            Dean looked at Rose. “Would you mind?”

            She shook her head. “No, go ahead. I’ll be okay.”

            Annabelle shot Rose a grateful look and dragged Dean out of the room deeper into the TARDIS.

            “What was that about?” Dean demanded.

            “Nothing,” she answered a little too quickly. Annabelle slowed her speech in an attempt to cover it up. “I mean . . . I just wanted to talk to you and make sure you're okay.”

            “. . . I’m fine. Been in worse fights. Are you sure you’re okay, kid?”

            “I’m just a little shaken up. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

            “Do you want to talk about it?”

            “I just want you to be safe.” She gave him a quick hug. “As long as you're okay . . .”

            “Does that mean you forgive me for starting a fight?”

            “Yes. Please don't do it again. I know it’s hard with Sam gone and it’s _his_ fault, but we’re here traveling with him and everything's complicated and hard. . . . We just . . . we’re all we have left. We’ve gotta be here for each other.”

            Dean was silent for a moment. Then he said, “You're right. I wasn't thinking. No more fights with the Doctor I promise.”

            “Thank you,” Annabelle said, relieved. She took his hand, and they started to explore the TARDIS together—keeping well out of the way of the room Rose was in just in case they ran into their pilot.

            They eventually ended up in the library. Dean watched as Annabelle looked over the spines of books, apparently looking for a specific book.

            “Annabelle?”

            “Hmm?”

            “How are you holding up with all this? Don’t tell me you’re fine. I want the truth.”

            “The truth, huh? Well . . . I don’t know. I don’t want to focus on how I feel, and I’m not sure if I’m angry or disappointed or if I want to keep trying to help or not. It just seems hopeless. I guess that’s how I feel. Hopeless. What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”

            “I don’t know. You’re right about us needing each other.”

            “Are you saying you want to talk?”

            “Yeah if that's okay with you . . .”

            She left the bookshelf and sat next to him. “I promised I’d always be here for you. I’m all ears.”

            She certainly was. Dean talked to Annabelle for a long time about Sam and how he was not sure how to live without him. She listened carefully and comforted him the best she could, saying that they would get through it together and everything would turn out okay eventually.

            He wasn’t quite sure he believed her.

-oOo-

A couple minutes after Dean and Annabelle had left, Rose looked up to find the Doctor leaning against the doorway. She scrambled back as he entered her room and began to stride toward her. “Don’t touch me!” she yelped.

            “Ssshhh,” he soothed. “I’m not here to hurt you, Rose. I’d never want to hurt you.”

            She eyed him suspiciously. “What’re you doing in here, then?”

            “Just wanted to talk. That’s all.” But there was something in his eyes—something in the way he was looking at her—that said talk wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

            The suspicion didn’t fade from her eyes. “Okay, then. Talk.”

            He sat next to her on the bed and was silent for a few seconds, as if he was thinking over about what he was going to say. Finally he asked, “How long had it been for you, with _him_?”

            Rose shot him a look. “Doctor, don’t do this to me now.”

            “What?”

            “Dodge what’s really bothering you by covering it up with meaningless babble while you talk at a million miles an hour.”

            “I do not!” he protested.

            Rose cracked a small smile. “Yeah, you do.” Her smile faded. “ _Now_ are you going to tell me what the hell has been going on while you've been on your own?”

The Doctor shrugged. “I went to the planet Acropolis in Galaxy Seven to destroy a Time Lord weapon of mass destruction that was built for use in the Time War and was nearly killed by this race called the Eyeless, the Fortress itself, and a psychotic teenage girl; met a human named Jackson Lake who thought he was me and defeated a CyberKing in Victorian London; was taken prisoner by the Daleks after the TARDIS jumped a time track and I found myself in the middle of the Second Dalek War with your species in the 26th century; met up with and defeated the Slitheen again; encountered Krillitanes, Autons, the Judoon; and met a lady thief at Easter when the bus we were on was transported through a wormhole to the planet of San Helios in the Scorpion Nebula, where I was told I was going to die when we eventually returned to London. Oh, and sometime after that I met Annabelle, saved her from Weeping Angels, went vampire hunting with her and her guardians, and then altered a fixed point in the 2014 Croatoan virus epidemic. No big deal.”

            Rose stared at him. “You’re joking.”

            “Does it look like I’m joking?” He continued before she could answer, looking at her directly in the eyes: “I’ve shown you _me_ , more than any human can bear to see. You’ve always known the sort of man I am, Rose.” He was leaning over her now, forcing her to recline back on the bed. His dark eyes were intense, searching hers for . . . _something_. “You’ve known ever since that Christmas I regenerated, after I killed the Sycorax leader, toppled Harriet Jones's government—ever since Adam and Captain Jack. And you _loved_ it.” His voice was low, rough, and there was no mistaking his intent now, not when she was beneath him like this and his eyes were devouring her like she was prey—like she was _his_ , only his, and woe to the one who stood in his way.

-oOo-

Dean was trying hard to hold himself together. Annabelle wrapped an arm around his shoulders and murmured, “Let it go, Dean. It’s okay.” She felt his breathing begin to shake and fell silent, gently rubbing his back in a futile attempt to comfort him.

            A tear slid down her own cheek despite her resolve to stay strong for him. She’d never seen Dean cry before, and it was impacting her pretty hard.

            She continued to comfort Dean until he pulled himself back together. He gave Annabelle a big hug and a weak smile. “Thanks, kid. I needed that.”

            “No problem,” she said, not bothering to hide her relief that he was okay. “Can’t hold back everything forever.”

-oOo-

“What?” Rose made no attempt to hide her shock. “No! I _didn’t_ . . .”

            The Doctor wasn’t even touching her, not yet—it was as if he was holding her in place through sheer force of will, and it wasn’t like she’d be able to move anyway: He was strangely compelling when he was like this. She still couldn’t resist squirming, trying to slip out from beneath him.

            He wouldn’t let her.

            _Soon I know you’ll see you’re just like me. . . ._

            “D-Doctor?”

            He heard her, but it was as if Rose’s voice was traveling underwater. And even if it was a slight protest, he didn’t care, because then he was finally— _finally_ —kissing her properly in a way that was anything but chaste—and he wanted more.

            Her hands were applying pressure on his chest, shoving him away—shoving him _off_ her. One look at her face, frozen in a mixture of fear and something else, and he knew she was trying not to scream.

            _No_. _I’m not having that._

            His lips found her throat, pressed nuzzling kisses there before ghosting up her skin to her ear. “Ssshhhh,” he whispered, trying to put her at ease, to quiet her soft cries of protest. His hands found the ends of her top, slid it up and over her head and left it to land on the floor before roaming across her newly-exposed skin even as he covered her mouth with his. “Oh Rose, _a ghrá_ ,” he rasped between kisses, his touch on her body gentle, “all I want is you.” 

            A shudder passed through her at his words; he smirked, let his hands roam further down, undid her jeans’ clasp and zipper before tugging at the offending material. It didn’t take long until Rose was completely bare to him. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her, his own personal goddess; to relish the fact she was back _here_ with him, where she should _always_ have been.

            He had been an _idiot_ to leave her on that damn beach for a _second time—_ and with a half-ape replica, no less. Not again. Never again. She was _his_.

            At that thought he leaned in, alternated between light nips and kisses as he made his way down her body—soft, pink skin stretched over toned muscle that gave in easily at his touch.

            Suddenly he stopped, moved back to strip himself of shirt and trousers; then returned to her, blanketed her body with his. He explored her with hands and mouth, coaxed her to respond to his touches, his kisses, his caresses.

            It was so difficult to remain gentle when everything in him wanted to take her hard, claim her, mark her as his.

            Even Time Lords—as much as they denied it—had base, primal instincts.

-oOo-

Rose wanted to shove him _off_ her—she hadn’t said yes, hadn’t given her consent; he’d ignored her protests and had _murdered_ his clone, the version of him he’d given her, right in front of her and then left him to die—but her body had other ideas.

            His skin was cool to the touch, several degrees below the normal human temperature—but then, he wasn’t human (as if she could ever forget that). And those cold hands were on her, his body pressing against hers as he ravished her, ice to fire . . . and all she wanted to do was scream.

            The only sound that came from her throat was a low moan.

            Rose was trapped inside her own mind; paralyzed with fear; hoping that she was dreaming, that all this was a nightmare, that she would wake up next to her human Doctor in their own bed at their house in Pete’s World.

            But it wasn’t a nightmare; it was _real_ ; there was no one coming for her—and she couldn’t even scream.

-oOo-

The Doctor smirked to himself as her low moans assaulted his ears. Yes, she wanted this just as much as he did—her body did, at least, even if her mind didn’t. Already she was slick with sweat; he could taste her fear on his tongue, could smell it—but underlying that was arousal.

            He brought his mouth to the hollow of her throat, licked the salt from her skin. “Help me,” he murmured in her ear, his left arm supporting his weight above her while his right trailed down her body, found where he wanted to touch her the most.

            _Oh . . ._ A tremor shuddered through him; he cursed softly in his native language. _“Arkytior . . .”_ He wanted to take his time with her, yet he didn’t. Already he’d wasted too many chances and he wanted his reward.

            “Doctor . . .” Her nails dug into the skin of his upper back, scratched hard enough to draw orange-red blood. “Stop . . .”

            He lifted his head, met her gaze with dilated, narrowed eyes. Time Lord pupils didn’t dilate like a human’s; they narrowed to slits like a snake’s or a cat‘s. “No. _Cha déid thu ás orm, Arkytior.”_

 _I can’t feed my hunger. Your youth makes me younger,_ a line from a song played in his head. _I’ll hurt you, desert you, turn your dreams to nightmares. I’ll cheat you; I’ll eat you; I’ll maim you; I’ll drain you. Come to me, come to me, to the dark side where love sleeps._

_Come and take a walk with me where the angels fear to tread. Kiss the flame, feel the pain in the furnace of our love. Come alone and talk with me. Sing the sweet song of despair. Give your body, give your soul in the furnace of our love._

Where had he heard that? Not that it mattered at the moment.

            He eased one, two, three fingers inside her, carefully stretching her so her body would be ready. She gasped; her hips bucked up off the duvet. The Doctor suppressed a smile, rested his other hand on her temple, and gently slid into her mind. As carefully as he could, he erased her memories of his meta-crisis clone and altered her memories of the last time they’d met on the Dalek _Crucible_ in the Medusa Cascade. When he was finished, he retreated from her mind.

            She hadn’t even known he was there.

            Good. He wanted her to be a willing participant in their current activities.

            _Your heart burns for love. My soul burns for blood. I’ll take you, I’ll break you. I’ll crush you, I’ll break you. If you want me, I’ll need you. I’ll kill you, feed from you. I’ll take you down that road that leads to destruction._

            And he did.

            Some time later, the sound of someone outside the door clearing their throat had the Time Lord lifting his head and glaring at the disturbance. Dean stood there, his eyes averted.

            “Get dressed,” the hunter told him. “Cass called. He wants to see all of us.”

            “What is it?”

            “He didn’t say, exactly, just that it’s urgent. And hurry up.”

            Then Dean was gone.

            The Doctor sighed, glanced at Rose—who had watched the exchange with interest in her golden-brown eyes—then rolled out of bed and dressed. She did the same, and soon the two of them had joined Dean and Annabelle in the console room.

-oOo-

When they all exited the TARDIS, they found Castiel looking around the bunker trying to figure out what was going on. The angel looked pleased to see Annabelle and Dean, the Doctor not so much, and Rose’s presence just confused him. “Dean, Annabelle,” he said, “I have been looking for you. There is much confusion in heaven. Many of the angels are saying Zoe is dead.”

            “That’s true. She’s gone,” Annabelle told him.

            “How? Who killed her?”

            Annabelle pointed to the Doctor. “I guess he likes evil angels just about as much as I do.” She caught Cass looking at Rose with his head tilted slightly and said quickly, “Oh and this is Rose. She’s from . . . not here. Rose, this is Castiel. He’s an angel.”

            Rose stared. “Seriously? Angel of what?”

            “She is quite serious, yes. I am the angel of Thursday.” Cass’s attention shifted to the Doctor. “What did you do with Zoe?”

            “Oh, just wrapped her in chains forged from the heart of a dwarf star, tricked her into falling into a dying star.” He shrugged. “Just your less-than-average punishment—being trapped in your own eternal hell, one you can’t _ever_ escape from because it’s timelocked. So! Is there anyone in charge of heaven? Some bloke named Metatron, maybe?”

            “Metatron has not been seen for centuries,” Castiel said. “Heaven is in confusion. A decision has not been made yet.”

            “Her second in command got away,” Annabelle said, throwing an accusing glare at the Doctor. “Would it be him?”

            “He was her second in command for a reason,” the trenchcoat-wearing angel reminded her. “He is not a leader. He needs orders. No one is stepping forward for the job.”

            “Now’s your chance, Cass,” Dean said. “You can take over and set heaven back on the righteous path.”

            “Dean’s right,” Annabelle agreed.

            “Mmm,” the Doctor murmured. Then, louder, “How’s the King of Hell doing? Any word from him?”

            “No,” Castiel replied. “Crowley has not spoken with the angels.”

            “With Zoe gone Crowley’s probably up to something. Someone should take to him,” Annabelle said.

            “We can later,” Dean told her. He asked Cass, “Is there still fighting in heaven?”

            “No. Heaven seems to be standing still. The angels are waiting for their orders.”

            “As if God cares,” Annabelle grumbled. Castiel glared at her for a second.

            Neither the Doctor nor Rose knew what to say to that; both of them were remembering their encounters with the Beast, the insane Dalek Emperor.

            Finally Annabelle pleaded, “Cass . . . just take over. You’re what heaven needs. You can pull it back together and undo what Uriel, Raphael, and Zoe did. You said it yourself: they need orders.”

            Cass was silent. He didn’t want to be God: he was afraid of what the power would do to him, was remembering what happened with the leviathan.

            Annabelle sighed. “Fine. Just let another corrupt angel take over. I’d hate to break your heart, Cass, but He isn’t coming back.”

            “How would you know?” Cass snapped.

            “Don’t you think He would’ve come back to you guys when he saw what the angels were doing? Don’t you think He would've come back when Lucifer rose? Or when a civil war broke out in heaven? You’re their best option,” Annabelle argued.

            The Doctor fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, great, could you hurry up with the decision a bit, Cass?” He frowned, turned to Rose. “Was I being rude again?”

            “Yeah, a bit.”

            “Sorry.”

            “No you’re not.”

            The Doctor shrugged. “You’re right; I’m not.”

            Castiel just disappeared, leaving Annabelle looking extremely irritated. “That angel can be so stupid sometimes.”

            “He’s doing his best, Annabelle,” Dean said, coming to Cass’s defense.

            She scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s just make sure Crowley isn’t up to anything.” The teenager looked at Rose and asked, “Wanna meet the King of Hell?”

            Rose’s golden-brown eyes met Annabelle’s gray ones. “Sure. How bad could he be?”

            The Doctor muttered, “Famous last words.”

            She shot him a quick glare. “Shut it.”

            Much to everyone’s surprise, he did.


End file.
